Hermione's True Love
by Voldemort'sMuse
Summary: A prophecy reveals that Hermione and Voldemort will fall in love and have a child. A scandal that would rock the wizarding world, neither side is prepared for it. Neither Hermione nor the Dark Lord want anything to do with each other.
1. Prophecy

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in the Harry Potter universe - they are the property of J.K. Rowling and I'm not making any money off of this venture.

Author's Note: AU. This story is non-compliant with some elements of the books.

Chapter One: Prophecy

"Um, Hermione, Lord Voldemort?" Tonks yelled. "There's a prophecy here with your names on it." The battleground deep in the Ministry of Magic went quiet, as everyone froze. Hermione, who was battling Goyle Sr, and Voldemort, who was battling Moody, Kingsley, and Sirius, rushed over. Tonks pointed out the prophecy hidden on the top shelf, towards the right, and just as Voldemort reached for it, she accidentally bumped his arm. The glass ball shattered on the ground, and a ghostly figure emerged from within. At his furious expression, she whispered an apology. The prophet's voice carried throughout the Atrium, reverberant and echoing:

 _The Dark Lord and friend of the Chosen One, born from the magic-less – they shall meet again. Their souls will become one as they join in union, and there shall burst forth from her womb a child, surpassing the likes of Merlin…._

Everything was silent. The shouts and scuffling boots from minutes ago gave way to a deafening silence, broken only by the sound of water dripping deep in the bowels of the Ministry. Warriors on both sides were frozen, wands at their sides, staring at the place where the prophet was, at Hermione, at Voldemort, and back at the prophet's place. Quite a few were shaking their heads, muttering "no" under their breaths. Hermione's cinnamon eyes warily met Voldemort's. _Looking into his red eyes was unnerving, to say the least,_ she thought. She rested her hand protectively over her lower abdomen, her eyes never leaving his.

Looking between them, Tonks saw Voldemort's expression mirrored on Hermione's face - eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouths agape.

"There's a lot of words in there I didn't like," Voldemort sneered at last.

"Surely, it must be tampered with, my Lord," Lucius drawled. He wore the Death Eater mask, but that baritone drawl was unmistakably his.

"How many times must I tell you, Lucius?" Voldemort murmured. Lucius bowed and stepped back. "A prophecy is similar to a patronus; you cannot produce a fake or tamper with it."

"Union?" Hermione mouthed. "'Join in union'?" she said louder, just above a whisper. "…souls will become one…? What...?" _I'm seventeen,_ she thought. _I'm only seventeen._

Tonks looked thoughtful. "I overheard a couple of Department of Mysteries folk once discussing souls in the elevator…" She heard a snort from Lucius's direction.

"Anyway, to paraphrase them, when two people fall in love, their souls begin to overlap. If the couple falls into a lifelong, unconditional love, then their souls will merge and become one. It's a permanent bond – if one dies, the other dies soon after." She hesitated, and then added, "Almost always the couple gets married."

Voldemort forced a laugh, but Hermione could see the flash of panic in his serpentine eyes. "So according to this damned prophecy, I'm supposed to fall in love with this mudblood, shag her, marry her, and we have a child?" he sneered. "Not a bloody chance."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I thought a snowball had a better chance in Hell than a baby did of surviving a killing curse," Tonks said softly. Voldemort's eyes flashed.

"I still don't get… _how…_?" Hermione muttered.

"Er…. he comes inside you, and nine months – " Tonks began hesitantly, but Voldemort cut her off with a wave of his hand and a sarcastic, "Thank you, Tonks…"

"I get _that._ " Hermione said crossly. "I mean... we're not compatible..." she stammered. _He's going to curse me or Tonks anytime now…. Oh gods I'm supposed to….with HIM?_ She saw Harry's wide eyes and looked away.

"Hell if I know. Shared intellect? Fate? Pheromones?" Tonks answered.

Voldemort echoed "pheromones?" and snorted. He turned to Hermione. "You're not my type. I have no interest in marriage, love, or children. And especially not _with you_ ," he hissed.

 _I suppose I should feel insulted,_ Hermione thought, but all she felt was relief. "Same to you," she stammered, braver than she felt.

"We're in agreement then," he murmured. He turned his wand over in his spidery hand, and to his satisfaction, saw Hermione flinch. "I'm not going to kill you – I learned my lesson with the last prophecy. But stay away from me," he hissed. "If we avoid each other, avoid any and all contact, it's impossible that this damned prophecy can come to fruition."

Hermione nodded, and Voldemort swiveled on his heel and disapparated.

She stared wordlessly after him, eyebrows knitted together, biting her lip, hand resting protectively over her abdomen.


	2. Scandal

Chapter Two - Scandal

Voldemort disapparating seemed to awaken the masses, as silence was filled with angry shouting, shouts of "Traitor!" and "How could you?!" and "Filthy Mudblood!" She heard none of it. Tonks stood by her, fighting off anyone who came near, as Hermione's wand rested uselessly at her side. Still she stared after him... _So lost. So confused. So many questions._

Bellatrix Lestrange darted towards Hermione, wand drawn by a clenched fist, face red with fury, shouting curses and hexes. Lucius Malfoy and Snape nodded at each other and ran. Lucius grabbed Bellatrix by the waist from behind and disapparated, just as Snape grabbed Hermione's wrist, nodded at Tonks' alarmed expression, and disapparated.

He brought Hermione back to Grimmauld Place, one arm draped across her shoulders, helping her walk inside. It reminded him of trying to walk a drunken Lucius home, although her smaller stature made it much easier. He pulled out a wooden chair by the table, sat her down, barked at Kreacher to make some tea, and took his Death Eater mask off, setting it on the table.

 _It worried him more than he wanted to admit – her forlorn expression hadn't changed. Her eyes were downcast, distant. She hadn't seemed to notice Bella carving a warpath towards her, nor a Death Eater (himself) disapparating her away, nor the change of scenery, nor the tea in front of her. He had seen shock before, in members of both sides... the mind shut down and went numb to protect itself from madness... She was seventeen, barely an adult..._

His silent reflection was interrupted with a loud bang as the front door slammed open. The Weasleys and blasted Potter and his fleabitten good-for-nothing godfather came in. _No doubt Tonks was still out there – as Auror, she had to remain on the battlefield until it was over._

Potter was shouting obscenities about the Dark Lord and swearing, pacing, running his hands through his messy hair. Black was shouting at Potter to calm down, and "there's nothing we can do" – which only led to a shouting argument between the two of them – Black saying it was a prophecy and the future, Potter saying they had to protect Hermione and save her and they couldn't just leave her to Him, saying Black didn't care, which only put Black on the defensive. The portrait of Black's blasted mother was screeching again, but he could barely hear it over the din. He rubbed his temples – he could feel a headache coming on again.

 _No doubt Bella and Lucius are in a shouting match now, after he disapparated her away to prevent her from killing Hermione... Bella would accuse Lucius of saving a mudblood and being disloyal, Lucius would counter that the Dark Lord didn't want Hermione killed, just out of sight, and Bella was going against his orders, Bella would argue that he would want her killed...come to think of it, why did Lucius save Hermione's life?_ The headache started pounding. Snape rubbed his temples. _I could really use a drink._

Ron Weasley was red in the face and shouting at Hermione, tears in his eyes, "How could you?! I loved you! I was going to marry you! Have kids with you!" Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes and streamed down her face, but she said nothing.

The other Weasley brothers said nothing, but standing behind Ron, it was clear whose side they took. Ginny said nothing and stood off to the side – evidently torn between siding with her brother, her best friend, and her boyfriend.

"Did I hear that right?" Arthur was saying to Remus in a hushed voice. "Hermione and You-Know-Who will fall in love and have a kid? It sounds bizarre just saying it...V-Voldemort for god-sakes...how do we know the prophet didn't make a mistake, naming our Hermione?"

"The prophets can recognize the magical signature when seeing a prophecy," Remus explained hollowly. "I have heard that sometimes two prophecies about the same person will interfere with each other – one would hope this one supersedes the one about Harry, otherwise Hermione or Ginny will become a widow. Rare, but it does happen."

Mad Eye Moody stumbled in, followed by Kingsley. Moody's blue eye swiveled through his head to focus on Hermione's defeated form. "Maybe she joins the other side, Remus," he growled. "She wouldn't be the first to desert our side."

Remus blanched. "She's not Pettigrew, Mad Eye! She's... she wouldn't... would she?" he faltered.

Even the normally calm and collected Molly was angry – the minute Tonks came in (banging the door open and knocking over the umbrella stand), Molly turned on her.

"How could you, Tonks?! She is but a girl!" Molly scolded.

"Do what now? She's an adult now, Molly. Anywho, the prophecy doesn't say it will happen today, but I'd say sometime in the next 33 years."

"33 years?!" Molly asked, voicing Snape's own question.

"Menopause of course - witches have until their fiftieth birthday, no?" Tonks said.

"This is nonsense! It's You-Know-Who!" Molly sputtered. "What's wrong with my Roniekins? He never killed anybody! You know, I can't believe we're even having this discussion! You're an Auror for Merlin's sake, how dare you take His side?!"

Tonks sighed. "I'm not taking anyone's side, Molly. I didn't make the prophecy. All I did was interpret it the best I could. It's a prophecy – it's the future. As certain to happen as the sun rising tomorrow and the Chudley Cannons finishing last again this year. It does seem unlikely and both clearly have no interest whatsoever in fulfilling it, but I'm afraid no matter how hard they try to hide they'll still find each other. It's inevitable."

Tears streaming down her face, Hermione covered her face with her hands and ran up the stairs. Ginny waited a second, glancing at her boyfriend and brothers, and ran up after her.

Tonks glanced at Snape and realized he looked as weary as she felt. His Death Eater robe was as torn and dirty as her red Auror robe, and beneath curtains of greasy hair she could see his tired eyes and drawn face. _Hardly a fearsome Death Eater – he looks vulnerable,_ she thought _._ "You look like you could use a drink, Severus," Tonks said kindly. Snape looked up from curtains of greasy dark hair, and she saw him school his face into the emotionless mask once more. _He would be good at cards_. _No doubt he doesn't want the others to see him as vulnerable,_ she thought _._

"Care to accompany me to the bar for a pint?" she said gently. Snape nodded and in one graceful movement, moved to stand beside her.

"Let's get out of here," he said under his breath, and grabbed his bone-white Death Eater mask off the table.

"Shall we go like this?" Tonks said grinning, gesturing at their Auror and Death Eater robes.

Snape gave her a rare smile. "Perhaps another time," he said. Clothes transfigured into his usual buttoned teaching robe and her usual pink hair, boots, jeans, and a "The Weird Sisters" t-shirt, she grasped his arm and they apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Tonks asked gently. They were on their fourth round of Firewhiskeys, and while he seemed less tense than at Grimmauld Place, she still saw that distant, sad expression in his dark eyes. "You seem... quieter than usual."

He hesitated.

"I found my soulmate years ago," Snape said softly, gazing into his goblet. "Beautiful, brilliant, my best friend... I was going to marry her one day, have a family with her..." He drained his Firewhiskey and asked Tom the bartender for another. Tonks knew enough to not ask questions, and let him continue.

"My housemates swayed me into practicing the Dark Arts and joining the Death Eaters. Not wanting to risk losing their acceptance or friendship, I followed their lead... Lily rejected me, left me for James, the bloke who had bullied me for years..." he said into his glass.

Tonks blinked. _I had never known that Harry's mum and Snape were that close, but it certainly explained his loathing of Harry._

"She can't have been your soulmate, Severus," Tonks said softly. _I want to grasp his hand, but he's like a deer... too quick and he'll run,_ she thought. "A soulmate would have forgiven you, accepted you the way you are." Snape made an odd noise in his throat, but said nothing.

"So what about you then?" Snape muttered, changing the subject. "Any blokes catch your fancy?"

"One," Tonks said, looking into his cold dark eyes. "I've known him for years. Lonesome type, alone and unappreciated, despite all his efforts," she said softly. She caught Snape listening intently to her every word. _If only you knew,_ she thought.

"What does he look like?" Snape grumbled. "I might know him."

"You've met him," Tonks said. _It's you,_ she wanted to say. "He's older than me... pale, tall, dark hair..." She leaned towards him. "I've known him for years, I care for him a lot, but I don't think he's even noticed," she said.

"No doubt some oblivious Gryffindor fool," Snape muttered, with a wry smile.

Tonks snorted. "Hardly. He's a Slytherin." Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Slytherin?" Snape echoed. "Whom?"

 _You,_ Tonks thought. "I've said too much already," she said, and flagged down the bartender for another drink. He had a calculating expression, as he ran through the dozens of Slytherins he knew.

"Adagio Flint."

She barked a laugh. "The oldest of the Flint brothers? No."

"Why, he's handsome enough," Snape drawled.

"He's as dull as the rest of his brothers. Anyway, the man I like isn't conventionally attractive...but he's clever, brave, cunning, has a deep voice, grace, maturity, captivating eyes..."

"Spare me," Snape said with feeling, and gestured for another drink. They clinked glasses.

"So what are your thoughts about the prophecy?" Tonks said, running a hand through her spiky pink hair.

…...

Hermione didn't sleep well that night. Around daybreak she gave up on sleep and went downstairs. Ron, Harry, Sirius, and Molly were in the kitchen, talking in hushed voices. She knew they were talking about her when they all fell silent when she entered the room. While Harry and Sirius greeted her normally, there was none of the usual offers of toast, bangers, and eggs by Molly, no warmness in Ron's expression when he saw her. Molly was unsmiling and Ron didn't talk to her at all.

"Pay them no mind," Harry muttered, and grabbed a plate of toast and a mug of coffee off the table. "Care for a walk? We're in a muggle neighborhood, you should be fine…" Without waiting for an answer, he grasped her arm and led her out the back door.

"Thanks," she said, sipping the coffee and nibbling on the toast he brought her. They were sitting in the shade under an oak tree not far from Sirius's house. "I don't get it… I have no control over what happened yesterday with the prophet…why are Ron and Molly mad at me?" Harry fingered his robes.

"Ron's liked you for years, always said he'd marry you one day. Molly's always wanted you for a daughter-in-law. Finding out that your soulmate is Voldemort is like a slap in the face."

" _But I have no control over what that prophecy said!"_ Hermione hissed, savagely tearing a piece of toast in half. Harry winced at her tone.

"Do you believe you act and speak out of free will?" he said. She blinked.

"Yes, everyone does. But this is a prophecy about my future!" she said, stabbing the butter.

"And there's a prophecy about me as well. And – what I've come to realize, is, I thought I had free will. And yet, everything I've done has only led me towards fulfilling my prophecy. Everything He has done out of his free will has only led towards fulfilling it…I want to kill him, he wants to kill me. It's only a matter of time before it happens," Harry said, fidgeting with a fallen leaf on the ground.

"He and I both decided to avoid each other. Neither of us want it to happen. How is the prophecy supposed to fulfill itself?" Hermione said impatiently.

"I don't know," Harry said. "All I know is that the prophecies are based on probability. Meaning it's highly probable that it will happen."

"But…"

"Times change, people change. Maybe you join the dark side," Harry mumbled.

"You think at some point I'll decide I want to boink Voldemort." Harry gave her a half-smile.

"Unlikely as it sounds, yes," Harry said, and idly beheaded a dandelion. Hermione drank the rest of her coffee, and buttered some toast.

"So why – why are you still being my friend?" she said at last.

"You haven't done anything yet. Innocent until proven guilty," he said with a sad smile. "Right now you're still one of my best friends, and a friend who could use a hug and some breakfast."

He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt her eyes well up with tears again.

...

Gossip spread like wildfire. According to Snape, Bella was out for blood, hunting for Hermione. She was being kept at Order Headquarters for safety. Just two days after the incident, Hermione overheard Kingsley stopping by late one night and in a hushed voice, warning Sirius, "Rita Skeeter has written an article for the _Prophet_ tomorrow. Don't let Hermione read it…."

The next morning, Sirius found Hermione already up, reading the _Prophet._

 _ **Harlot Granger Takes a Turn for the Infamous**_

 **Readers will remember Hermione Granger plying for the affections of The Chosen One, Harry Potter, and famous Quidditch seeker, Viktor Krum, as early as her fourth year. A plain-looking girl with bushy hair and buck-teeth, unremarkable features, and a boyish figure, both have rejected her attentions for more becoming witches. And now, it seems her attention has turned toward the infamous…. Numerous interviews have stated that she is plotting to win the affections of none other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, even plotting to bear his child, and entrap him into marriage. She no doubt seeks to rise above her lowly muggleborn status by attaching herself to any well-known member of society who will have her….**

Hermione's eyes glazed over. The article got worse from there. There were nasty quotes from former classmates, allusions to her as a temptress, a slut, as bad as Voldemort himself…it was positively scathing. Sirius grabbed the paper out from under her nose and tossed it into the fire.

"Don't read that rubbish," Sirius grumbled. "Rita's never been good for writing anything nice. Care for some tea?"

She nodded. He looked more closely at her. Her eyes were no longer red and puffy from crying, but she still had bags under her eyes, ever since the battle… she hadn't been sleeping much. _I should ask Snivellus to bring some Dreamless Sleep,_ he thought.

Howlers flew in all day and into the night, shrieking insults, which only woke up the portrait of Sirius's mum. She used a charm to confound the Howlers into believing their destination was the fireplace. It was quieter now, but the sheer volume of people who insisted on sending Howlers left her no comfort. Somehow she doubted Voldemort was receiving Howlers.

She couldn't even go into Muggle London – she and Harry went to a cafe one afternoon, only to have Bella Lestrange and Nott find them. They only narrowly escaped.

At the Order meeting that night, Severus gave his report of the last Death Eater meeting.

"Voldemort… doesn't seem to care much one way or the other," Snape said in a low voice, at Remus's asking. "Nott and Avery and the rest were pressing him, asking what to do about her. He said, quote, 'I don't care if she lives or dies. She is insignificant… like forgotten rubbish on the street, not worth anyone's time or concern to dispose of. [Hermione blanched at that.] However…if I run into her and find that one of my Death Eaters has disfigured or defiled her, I shall be very displeased. Now, on to more important matters…' and then he continued discussing the new recruits and refused to discuss the matter further."

"Well, that's confusing direction," Tonks said lightly.

"Indeed," Snape said. "He is trying to act as if she is of no concern and insignificant to him, but I think… it is bothering him more than he wants to admit."

"Bothers me too," Hermione muttered into her goblet. Ginny, who was sitting beside her, gave her a one-armed hug. Ron scowled but said nothing.

Kingsley rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's almost as if he's leaving the decision up to his Death Eaters… I don't think he even knows himself what to do with her."

"Do you think he could possibly secretly want the prophecy to happen, and just be keeping up appearances?" Ginny said. At the raised eyebrows around the table, she stammered, "I mean, if he's undecided… he sounds conflicted on the matter."

"It's Voldemort," Harry said darkly.

"Killing her, or giving the orders to do so, would be admitting that she matters to him," Snape drawled. "Saying he doesn't care if she lives or dies… that's how he would feel about an anonymous stranger, perhaps." He took a long draught from his goblet. "However, the Death Eaters are as divided in their opinions as we are. Some… like Bellatrix, Avery, and Nott believe he wants her dead and want to do him a… favor, as it were. Others, like Lucius seem to be thinking along the lines of Miss Ginny or Kingsley…or at least want the prophecy to happen."

"Speaking of Lucius, he just about saved Hermione's life back there, disapparating away Bella. Why?" Harry asked.

Snape studied him through curtains of greasy dark hair. "Lucius... is a happily married wizard. Family comes first for him. He is the type who thinks just because he's happily married, he should encourage his familiars to get married as well and settle down. What's more, he thinks….a wife and child would help the Dark Lord settle down, calm his temper so he doesn't take his anger out on his followers. Less frequent battles if he has a family to care for. Most of the others agree that regular intercourse would make him less tense, calm him down… but think a muggleborn is entirely unfit and unworthy to be his mate. Not to mention the ties Miss Granger has to Potter and the Order."

"Never would've thought Lucius was a closet romantic," Molly remarked.

A smirk crossed Snape's face as he looked off into the distance. "Lucius has tried to arrange for matches for the Dark Lord over the years, young Slytherin witches, the model-type, and so forth – to no success. He was amused by it at first, but eventually got irritated, even angered by it, and Lucius gave up. He doesn't understand how Miss Granger could be a good match for the Dark Lord, but at this point he is desperate enough that if the prophecy says she is, so be it. He and Bella have been at heads ever since the battle – no doubt she is fiercely jealous of Miss Granger. Entrapped in an arranged marriage, she has never loved Rodolphus, and would leave him in a second if the Dark Lord agreed to it. Instead, she has had to settle for merely being available to the Dark Lord when the mood strikes."

"I thought there was something going on between them!" George said. Snape nodded. "It's not exactly a secret… only Rodolphus doesn't know. Willful ignorance perhaps."

Sirius glanced at Hermione to find her doodling on a napkin: RW HG ≠ LV BL RL. She crumpled up the napkin and tore it to shreds. "Things get a lot more complicated after puberty, don't they?" he muttered, leaning back on the chair legs. "I still haven't found out how anybody finds someone that loves them back."

"Likely due to your malodorous stench of wet dog,"Snape sneered, and continued discussing the Death Eaters' plans.

Just before he left, he slipped Hermione a glass vial of potion. "Dreamless Sleep," he muttered. "I made a cauldron-full, if you need more. And…try running sometime. I find it helps…. to clear the mind, when nothing else will." He turned on his heel.

Tonks who was waiting by the door, left with him.

...

"Clearly the males of the species are rather dense on these matters. You really should, for lack of a better word, make the first move," Severus said. They were at the Leaky Cauldron again. It was crowded this time, loud enough they had dragged their stools closer together.

"I'm nervous... he can be dangerous if provoked," she said. "Can I trust him? Any sort of relationship with him could derail my career."

"Don't be so melodramatic. People will think you were sorted into Gryffindor," Snape said dryly.

"I'll have you know the Hat decided I was too Gryffindor for Slytherin and too Slytherin for Gryffindor, gave up, and stuck me in Ravenclaw. You should know – you taught me Potions for seven years."

"At least it wasn't Hufflepuff," Snape said wryly. "So why exactly do you consider him dangerous? You're an Auror for Merlin's sake," he said, drinking his Firewhiskey.

Tonks swallowed. "Because he's a Death Eater."

Snape choked, and started coughing. She pounded him on the back. He stared at her. "Really...a Death Eater, Tonks? Trust me – no good can come out of it."

She crossed her arms. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

"You're playing with fire," Snape said, but she could see him going through the Death Eaters in his mind, mentally crossing off the few females, the blondes, the non-Slytherins, and so forth.

"Avery. He's Slytherin, dark-haired as specified, older than you..."

"Really, he's married, Severus. The wizard I desire never married, never had children."

She saw him re-calculating, mentally crossing off the married ones.

"Enough about me fancying Death Eaters," she said, changing the subject. "How's life? You're still teaching at Hogwarts, aren't you?"

"Don't remind me," Snape said darkly. "My dream was to do potions research, invent new potions... instead I'm teaching first years how to cure boils, grading abysmal papers, wasting my evenings catching students breaking curfew..."

"Sounds repetitive. You ever think of quitting?" she said.

Snape glared at her. "No – not once in my dull life did it occur to me to quit. Thank you Tonks for the wonderful suggestion. Just quit and beg for food, now that my meager salary is gone..."

"Sarcastic, much?" Tonks said, resting a hand on his arm. "No. Quit, and work for St. Mungo's, or get a Ministry grant for Potions research."

"Because of course, they hand those out to Death Eaters all the time," Snape sneered.

"Quit and open a Potions business. I know typically one is expected to visit an apothecary and pick up the supplies, but not too many have the time or skills to brew their own. If the apothecary brews it for you, they charge a premium. But you could brew in bulk..."

Snape's dark eyes lit up. She could see him turning the idea over in his mind. "I would need a sustainable business model..." he muttered. "Maybe keep a stock of the most commonly used ones – Painkilling Drought, Dreamless Sleep, Mother's Milk, and so forth. A limited supply of restricted potions like Veritaserum. Special potions available on request. Set up a shop in Diagon Alley, hire an assistant...do research in the evenings..."

He frowned. "I would need a startup loan... ingredients, supplies, rent, insurance, paying the assistant's salary, my salary...I could ask Lucius but he'd demand equity."

"He would demand equity," Tonks agreed. "What if you started out as a mail-order business, work with the apothecaries or Potions supplies stores? Summer's coming up..."

Snape looked like he could've kissed her.

...

"What are you doing?" Harry asked. Hermione hadn't left her room in weeks, not since the one last trip to Hogsmeade for Potions supplies with Harry. Ron hadn't said a word to her since after the battle. Hounded left and right by members of both sides shouting insults and accusations and jeers (Mudblood filth! Traitor! Slut! Whore!), she had held her head high, but Harry saw her crying again later that night. Word was that Bella was still searching for her.

"Brewing a Permanent Polyjuice potion," she said. "It will alter my appearance permanently – even after I'm dead, I'll be unrecognizable as Hermione Granger. My new persona will be Marcela Santos.

"I found a Healer position in Central America. It's perfect. They'll train me, there's Healer classes at La Universidad de Magia, and there's a medical university nearby so I can take muggle courses in medicine too. It's in Guatemala – a tiny, third-world country, easily missed on the map."

"Are you sure this is necessary?" Harry said. "I've been insulted for years, had my fair share of enemies out to kill me, and I never fled."

"You're not scheduled to shag Lord Voldemort, marry him, and give birth to his kid," Hermione pointed out.

"Good point," Harry said, wincing.

"He'd probably crucio me if I burn his toast," Hermione added.

"Also a good point," Harry added. He stood to leave. "Well, I'll tell the Order your plans at our next meeting."

"No!" Hermione yelled. "No one must know."

"Why...?" Harry asked. "No one's going to tell..."

"The less who know the better. Gossip...Veritaserum...please don't tell?"

"People will ask where you are. Even if I say you were killed, they'll ask for a body," Harry argued.

"Fine. Say I fled to become a Healer. Tell Ginny and Ron, the Order if you must, that I went to Guatemala. But my secret identity and Permanent Polyjuice are to remain with you, and you alone."

"But..." Harry protested.

"Swear to me! An unbreakable vow!" She grasped his hands.

...

"McNair."

Tonks barked a laugh. "McNair? Eew, no. Anyway, the man I want is a half blood."

She could see Snape cross-checking his mental list. "You're mistaken. Of the remainder left, they're all pureblood."

"You must be missing one," Tonks said softly, stroking his left hand. _Hey, he washed his hair,_ she thought – _it doesn't look greasy. His robes look nicer too... not the usual teaching robes today._

"And you're certain he has the Mark?" Snape drawled, drinking his fifth Firewhiskey of the night. _Is she wearing makeup for once? Her hair's not that infernal spiky pink anymore...the long purple hair looks nice on her. I wonder who she fancies... lucky bloke, whoever he is. No witch for Severus... typical._

"Positive," she said, stroking the Mark on his forearm, feeling the scar tissue beneath her fingers.

He looked skeptical. "What does he do outside of being a Death Eater?" Snape asked.

She swallowed. _It was now or never,_ she thought. She leaned forward, resting a hand on Snape's thigh. She saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, but he didn't flinch away from her touch – in fact, he leaned towards her. Carefully watching his dark eyes, she murmured, "He's a member of the Order, he teaches Potions, he's Hogwarts' Head of Slytherin." His jaw dropped, and his eyes darkened. Her hand slipped to his inner thigh. He reached out a pale hand and stroked her cheek. She kissed him, and felt his lips relax beneath hers, and felt his arms reach around her. He deepened the kiss, and felt her moan beneath his lips. He put some sickles on the bar to pay the tab as they left, not breaking contact.

"It's about time," Tom the bartender muttered, cleaning up their glasses behind them.

...

"Well, I'm off," Hermione said. She had packed the last of her things.

"You even sound different," Harry commented. Hermione had just taken the Permanent Polyjuice. Meditating on her form, she had transformed her features into one of Hispanic descent to blend in.

"Goodbye," Hermione said. "Write to me – in case your owls get tracked by the Ministry or Voldemort, never use Hedwig, send from your home, or use my name or yours. Disguise your handwriting or send me articles from the _Daily Prophet,_ menus, receipts, whatever – just so I know you're alive. Promise me?"

"I promise," Harry said. "I'm going to miss you." They hugged, and after awhile, she apparated away.


	3. Crash

Chapter Three - Crash

That was years ago. Back when Hermione had first started training as a Healer's apprentice, studying the fine medical arts. Back when she was seventeen. Nothing in her life had prepared her for that moment.

She was a certified Master Healer now. Using a mixture of magic, potions, and muggle healing methods (even though her colleagues scoffed to no end at that), she healed the very sick and injured, the curse-damaged, and so on. To broaden her knowledge of healing methods and the human body, she earned her MD as well, self-studying whenever she could to earn all the pre-requisites. Her colleagues may have made fun of her incorporating muggle methods, but she found them in some cases, to work better than their magical equivalents.

It had been over ten years ago since she moved here. She hardly ever spoke English anymore. Hardly ever thought of the prophecy. There were times when she thought of moving back to England, back home, but she was settled where she was, rented a home, had friends, a decent job she enjoyed, even went on a few dates… and any thoughts of going back home were quieted by the newspapers Harry would send her way – marked with headlines like "Voldemort Expands His Forces," "Muggle Massacre – Voldemort's Followers Responsible," "Giants Recruited by Other Side," and "Battle at Hogsmeade – Ten Dead." Voldemort was active as ever in England, the battle on-going. The fact that the newspaper finally called him by his chosen name didn't offer her any comfort.

She had requested Harry write to her so she'd know he was still alive. She felt guilty for fleeing, but he didn't blame her in the slightest. In his letters, he promised her that he was trying his hardest to kill him off so she could return home. He reassured her that Ron regretted being a prat, and that her friends missed her. Rumors back home were that she had gone into hiding, or was killed. Sometimes she thought of the prodigy child that could've been, the child mentioned in the prophecy that would "surpass the likes of Merlin." _I'm sorry, my child…but it's better this way._

Lost in thought, she was driving home from the hospital, exhausted from a grueling twenty hour shift, trying to repair the victim of an ambush – here, there were no organized terrorist groups like Voldemort's, but magical gangs did exist, and were almost as brutal.

She reached the open highway, and stepped on the gas (how she loathed the country-wide ban on apparition!), trying to reach home faster, the better to fall asleep, about ready to nod off. 90, 100, 110 kilometers per hour…. The airbag slammed into her chest, just as a deafening crunch reached her ears. Coughing from the powder in the airbag, she got out. All sleepiness was gone as her heart raced with adrenaline. Her engine was smoking, leaking fluid. The front of her car was crushed in. Worse than that, lying just beside her car on the pavement, lifeless, was a man dressed in black. His neck was at an odd angle, his arm gashed open, and he lay in a spreading pool of his own blood.

She crouched on the pavement, looking into his fading brown eyes, hearing his strained gasps for breath, and brushed her hand over his clammy forehead and dark hair.

She felt for his erratic pulse. _If only I had my supplies with me! This would be so easy…_ She was too far away from the hospital now… she lived way out in the jungle. She ran her wand over him, casting a blue light. Just as she suspected… broken neck, broken ribs, arterial bleeding from his left arm. _Oh no. No no no no._ She covered her mouth with her hand, and shook her head. His spinal cord was shredded, just below the second vertebrae. A green-stick break – a few nerves looked intact, but damaged. The rest were completely severed. Short of a finicky nerve-growing potion (that took three full moon cycles to work), he'd be mostly paralyzed – for life. She bit her lip. With a swift spell, she mended the gash in his arm. With a stasis charm, she immobilized his neck for the time being. He seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness – he'd look at her with heavy-lidded eyes, gasping, moaning in pain, before closing his eyes again and back. _If only I was at the hospital! The blood-replenishing potions, Skele-gro potions, it all would've been so simple._

As it were, she ran her wand over him again. His blood pressure was dropping fast – despite the healing spell. She ran the diagnostics spell again - he had lost too much blood. She glanced at the puddle of spilled blood on the dirt road, mixing with the spilled engine fluid and antifreeze... it was useless now. He was blood-type B negative. Thank the gods, she was born O negative – the universal donor. She conjured a couple needles and a connecting tube. Biting her lip, she pierced his arm, pierced her own, and connected the two. He winced, looking at the tube uncertainly, before closing his eyes again. Her blood flowed into him.

She conjured a neck-brace for him, and fashioned it around behind his neck – the stasis charm tended to wear off. _What had I read about ortho-repairing charms? The neck was so delicate! Best to use a potion._ She waved her wand, checking his vitals again. He opened his eyes again, staring at the tube of her blood flowing into him. His blood volume was back to normal. She removed the tubing she had set up. His eyes rolled back and the hand she was holding went limp.

She looked at him wide-eyed in horror – _I never lost a patient! Never!_ She waved her wand for his pulse, grasped at his hand for one, but it was absent. Urgently, she clasped her hands together and pounded on his chest, just over his heart. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand, pinched his nose, and breathed into his mouth twice. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand, pinched his nose, and breathed out her mouth into his.

Just as she thought it was hopeless, doing her last breath, she felt his mouth move under hers, saw his eyes open out of the corner of her eyes. She knelt beside him, over his head. She gingerly lifted him into a sitting position.

"Why can't I move…?" he groaned.

 _He speaks English?_ she thought. _He must be foreign… although the Mayan pyramids are close to here, I do see tourists from time to time in these parts._ "Your spinal cord was shredded by your broken vertebrae – in your neck. I was able to heal your arm, replenish your blood, restart your heart when it stopped, but I'll have to brew you some potions for the rest."

He winced. "My – my spinal cord broke!? YOU…YOU PARALYZED ME?" She nodded, blinking back tears, her throat too tight to speak. "Who are you?" he rasped.

"Marcela Santos. A healer. I work at La Guatemala Ciudad Hospital Para Magia. I feel horrible – I was rushing to get home, get some rest after a long shift, and didn't see you. I'm so sorry."

"You gave me your blood! Directly into my veins!" he said.

"What was I supposed to do? Your blood pressure was low because you bled out so much, and my blood is O-, free of diseases… I gave you a couple pints at most."

"Two pints?! You realize most dark magic uses a drop or so of blood, mixed into a potion…?"

"I gave you mine to save your life. Muggles do it all the time. You wouldn't be here arguing with me about it if I didn't. If it's dark magic to save your life, then so be it. It worked," she said crossly.

He stared at her in disbelief. _Was she from England? She has a slight English accent. Odd. And why does she seem strangely familiar? I must have hit my head harder than I thought._ He grimaced – he ached all over, pain shot up and down his neck. He tried directing his magic to his neck, but it didn't help.

"How did you know it was safe to use magic?" he asked, slowly.

She hesitated. "I saw your wand." _And I think I've seen it before…_ She shook her head. _I'm being paranoid_. He glanced at her. "We're almost at my home. I can brew you a potion to heal your neck. I'll have to levitate you – I don't think I could carry you if I tried."

 _This all feels so unreal… she hit me with her car!? How fast was she going?_

She waved her wand, moving her car over to the side of the road. "There's no use taking the car," she explained. "I'll have to take it to a mechanic." She walked slowly towards her house, levitating him in front of her. She hesitated – it wasn't every day she invited strange men into her home, although a paralyzed man would hardly be much of a threat. _He seems vaguely familiar, but I can't explain why. As far as I know, Voldemort is in England, starting battles, recruiting followers, and the like. The thought of him, being here, on a deserted country road on the outskirts of an impoverished, muggle town, in a random third world country… the very thought was ridiculous._ She shook her head.

"You didn't say – what's your name?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Alejandro. Alejandro Martinez."

"What do you do?" she asked.

"Research, mainly." he said. _Why did he have an English accent? He looked Hispanic… unless he spent some time in England, maybe?_

When they reached her house, she said the password to open the door, led him into her lab, and propped him up on a conjured couch. He watched as she pulled out ingredients from the shelves, started a fire under her cauldron, and efficiently chopped ingredients, adding them to the cauldron, pouring the right amount of liquid in. She didn't measure anything, and didn't look at a book once. He realized that she reminded him of Snape.

"You could be a potions mistress," he muttered.

"No desire for it," she said. "My potions master in school was brilliant, but rather short-tempered."

He laughed. _Severus and her potions master would get along well,_ he thought. _Although come to think of it, with her English accent, did she go to Hogwarts?_

"So the Skele-gro potion just needs to simmer. I added some essence of poppy, which should help with the pain," she stated, cutting across his reverie. "That just leaves the Nerve-growth potion."

"You can brew it?!" he asked. He knew it to be a difficult potion at the best of times – even the best potion masters had trouble with it.

"It's not an easy potion, but I can brew it. It's temperamental, by any means – too much, or if it targets the wrong area, you have a deadly nerve or brain tumor. I can't give it to you all at once, for the same reason. It'll take three full moon cycles, starting with the new moon tomorrow night."

"You can't give it to me tonight?"

"No. Your vertebrae need to be healed first." She turned down the heat on the Skele-gro potion.

"I'm hungry," he said, at last. She left the room, levitating him behind her, and sat him at the dining table. He had to use wandless magic just to keep himself upright. He watched her as she walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of pasta sauce and box of penne noodles from the pantry, and prepared dinner. She seated him at the table and served him a plate. At his disappointed expression, she said, "I can cook something better tomorrow. It's three in the morning."

"It's fine," he said quickly. With some practice, he was able to maneuver the fork with magic and serve himself. _I wonder if she's single,_ he thought, watching her backside as she walked into the lab. He blinked. _I haven't had thoughts like that in years._

She returned with the home-brewed Skelegro potion just as he finished dinner. He drank it at once, and grimaced at the taste. However, the opioid she added to it worked fast – the pain was gone.

He yawned – hard to do with the brace. "How long must I wear this?" he asked.

"Just until morning," she said. "A stasis charm can wear off, and I don't want to risk that. The potion will heal your vertebrae and ribs overnight. Do you want the bed…?" He raised an eyebrow. _Eerie,_ she thought. _I've seen that expression before..._ She shook her head. _I'm being paranoid again._ _Lucius and Snape did that too – of course it looked familiar._ "I just want to make sure there's no complications in the night," she said hastily, trying to sound calmer than she felt. She felt butterflies in her stomach. _He's handsome... pity he was paralyzed… perhaps once the potion takes effect…_ She shook her head. _Down, girl,_ she thought.

"That would be amenable," he said at last.

She cleared the dishes with a wave of her wand, and went to her master bedroom, levitating him behind her. She turned the bedlamp on, and pulled down the comforter.

"I need to use the facilities," he said suddenly. She turned towards him. She hadn't thought about this. He levitated himself into the bathroom, and she followed. Leaning on her, he tried to unbutton his robe with wandless magic, without success. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Can you…?" She frowned, and unbuttoned his robes herself. His manhood was larger than she would've expected – she glanced up at him and quickly averted her eyes. He must've sensed her thoughts, as he smirked at her.

"Sit or stand?" she asked.

He glared at her. "I'm a wizard. I don't …sit when I urinate." _Typical male,_ she thought.

….

"Here's a bell," Hermione said, once she tucked him in. "It's charmed. Ring it with magic if you need anything – I'll know."

"Thank you," he said, unsure of what to say. She took her nightgown and left.

She changed into her nightgown, brushed her teeth, and made up the living room sofa. Tossing and turning, she finally fell asleep. She got up in the middle of night with a full bladder, and after using the bathroom, realized she should check on her patient. She cracked open the door, and saw him where she left him. His eyes opened when he heard the door creak open. His eyes widened when he saw what she was wearing – the sheer fabric was not enough to hide her silhouetted curves in the moonlight. He got the sense she had no idea how revealing it was.

"I just came to check on you," she said, and walked over to the bed. It was a queen-size bed, but he slept right on the edge of it. She pressed on his ribs, checked his pulse with her fingertips, leaned forward, and checked that the neck brace hadn't moved. Reaching between the brace and his skin, she felt the bone with her fingertips. In this pose, he got an eyeful of cleavage, just inches from his face.

She took off the neck brace, and cast it aside. She felt his neck, checking for any abnormalities in the vertebrae. "It looks like you're all healed," she said. "Good as new." At his lack of response, she turned to see him staring down her nightgown.

She cleared her throat. He raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Sorry," he said. "Yours are so nice I can't help myself," he murmured. _Men!_ she thought, and rolled her eyes.

All too soon, she left. It was a long time before he fell asleep that night.

…

After she made breakfast for them that day, she started brewing the Nerve-Growth potion. It was one of the few potions she still required a recipe for. A complicated potion, requiring almost every ingredient she had, and many different steps – the right cells had to be targeted to prevent complications, and the nerve cells didn't normally divide or grow past the fetus stage, so a few ingredients were needed just to coax the appropriate cells back into their fetal state, enough that they'd start growing and "bridge the gap." Then ingredients to limit the growth – a tumor growing inside a vertebrae would not be a pleasant experience. If they didn't grow enough however, and bridge the gap completely, he'd still be paralyzed in parts.

He watched as her hands were a blur of motion – boiling the milk of a hippogriff, cutting and straining mandrake root, mincing dragon scales, stirring with one hand while adding the scales, milking the venom from copperhead fangs, stirring with a fine glass rod, counting the seconds with an hourglass, adding the wings of a lacewing fly, and others he wasn't familiar with. His eyes glazed over as the hours passed by.

Finally, around sunset, she set it aside to simmer, its color now a navy dark blue. She ground unicorn horn with a solid opal mortar and pestle, before weighing and measuring it on a golden scale. It seemed ostentatious to use such materials, but the more advanced potion books, her colleagues, and the occasional letter back and forth to Snape informed her (although in a dry, sarcastic manner) that with certain ingredients, the best containers and tools were needed – inferior quality such as lead or pewter, for example, could leech into the potion and make it ineffective, even harmful in some cases. And there was great debate over which materials could enhance or inhibit different ingredients in a potion. She was lucky her retiring mentor at the hospital gifted her all the potions equipment and ingredients – there was no way she could afford such things on her own.

She turned up the heat to just under a boil and added the unicorn horn while stirring; seven turns clockwise, one turn counterclockwise. After two turns of a minute hourglass, she turned off the heat. As the potion cooled, it changed color to a pearlescent sheen. She ladled out three ounces into a crystal goblet and cast a stasis charm on the potion.

"You're sure this will work?" he asked, as she brought it over.

"Trust me. I've been brewing healing potions for years," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Now, it works with your magic, which means no more wandless magic, you hear?" He looked mutinous. "It's just for three months," she said. "I'll take care of you." His face relaxed.

"When you drink it, focus every last bit of your magic on where your spine hurts – where the nerve's severed. This is important - it's what will direct it to the right location."

He nodded, and parted his lips as she tilted it down his throat.

….

She had enchanted a carpet to levitate for him to sit or lie on – it was less creepy than his levitated body, legs and arms dangling limply at his sides. His torso still had some functionality, as far as his abdominal muscles, organs, and what not, although his skin was numb to the touch below the neck, and he couldn't move his limbs. She had enchanted a chair for him to sit on too, but he seemed to prefer the carpet.

"I still can't believe you hit me! Who drives that fast?!" he burst out one afternoon.

"Well if you hadn't been walking in the middle of the street, at night, dressed in black, I wouldn't have hit you!" she scolded.

"Do they not have brooms where you come from?"

"I'm afraid of heights," she mumbled.

"Afraid of heights?" he looked at her and laughed. "Afraid of heights? You're a witch! Your magic would stop you before you hit the ground!" She mumbled something incomprehensible. "As soon as I recover, I'm getting you to overcome this irrational fear of yours. This is ridiculous."

"I'm sure you have an irrational fear," she said. "Everyone does."

He didn't answer. "Let's go see your car," he said finally.

She blinked, summoned her keys, and led him down the winding dirt road to her car.

He drew a sharp intake of breath when he saw the pool of his blood on the ground.

"You nicked an artery," she said softly. "That's why I had to give you a quart of my blood."

"Thank you," he said, in a tight voice. Following his gaze, she saw him looking at the massive dent in the hood, the cracked bumper, the bent license plate, the busted headlight, and the pool of engine oil and antifreeze beneath the car.

"Toyota Camry," he muttered. "Open the hood and see if you can start it. Test the lights." She popped open the hood and turned the key. The engine made a horrible grinding noise, and she shut it off. "The bulbs are fine," he said.

She waved her wand, and with a few Reparo charms, she was able to fix the aesthetics – the dent, cracked bumper, bent plate, and headlight. She checked the fluids, straightened the bent frame and radiator with magic, repaired the engine oil tank, and refilled it with a container from the trunk. She tested the engine again. It was still making a grinding noise and wouldn't start.

"It sounds like the starter," he said. "Look – the transmission case is cracked."

"The what?" she said.

"The little black plastic box next to the battery. Take the cover off," he said. She took it off, and repaired the plastic case.

"Disconnect it from the positive terminal on the battery and remove those broken bolts," he said. She removed them as directed, and repaired them.

"Remove the long bolts there to open it." Once she opened it, she saw two cylinders inside. "That big one is the motor spinning the engine to start it. The other there is a solenoid – the magnetic coil."

"How do you know so much about fixing cars?" she asked, incredulous. "Most wizards don't know a thing about combustion engines." _He knows a lot more than Arthur does,_ she thought.

"I was raised by muggles," he said, embarrassed. "I read a lot... and I've always been curious how things worked," he said. She stared at him, mouth agape. _He reminds me of… me…!_ she thought.

"Look - that piece is damaged," he said. He guided her in fixing it, and then added, "We should check your flywheel."

…

She massaged shampoo into his hair. She had drawn a bath for him – it had been about a week since the incident, as she called it. She expected him to complain, but he was oddly silent, even content. His eyes never left her. She rinsed out the shampoo and picked up the bar of soap and started gently washing his back, his buttocks, his shoulders, his arms, his hands. She lifted him as needed to wash his chest, his feet, his calves, up his thighs. His eyes never left her face, even as her cheeks reddened as her soapy hands went further up his thighs.

"Are you blushing?" he murmured.

"Can't say I've ever washed a naked man before," she said. "In the hospital the house elves take care of it. You really can't feel anything can you?" she asked.

"I wish," he muttered. She blushed even redder than before. She drained the tub, helped him up, and toweled him off, without another word. The tension was palpable.

…

"What is that…?" he said, watching her scowling as she read over an old _Daily Prophet_ headline: "Voldemort Recruiting Forces: Battle Ahead?"

She folded it and put it aside. "A friend of mine sends me the paper every now and then."

"What did you say you did in England...?" he said.

"Went to school there. Returned back home when the fighting got to be too much," she lied.

"Ah. Pity they can't even give him his proper title." She stared at him.

"He made that title up! He's not Lord of anything!" she snorted. "It'd be like me demanding people call me Queen Marcela!" she laughed.

His eyes narrowed to slits, but he stopped himself before blurting anything out. _These days you didn't know who had connections to whom. One could never be too careful._


	4. Closer

Chapter Four - Closer

 _December 2000_

The Malfoys were hosting a festive Christmas banquet for all the Death Eaters and their families. The mansion was decorated in white and glittering silver, like an elegant winter wonderland: fairies and enchanted snowflakes and huge decorated pine trees in the foyer and even the damn albino peacocks had diamond collars. He never cared for the festivities and ostentatious decorations around the holidays, but someone always insisted on hosting. Lucius reminded him of Albus excessively decorating Hogwarts around the holidays...the orphanage was much more somber in contrast.

As fiancé to one of the Death Eaters, Tonks was invited as well, _the only Auror to ever attend or be invited to one of the Death Eater events._ He was curious how she and his Death Eaters would handle it… as Severus's chosen, she was one of them, and yet she was also an Auror and a true member of the Order….

While he was seated at the place of honor at the end of the table, Severus and his betrothed were sitting beside him. He noticed Tonks received a few stares and pointed comments, but she just brushed it off with a smile and wave of her hand or a tilt of her martini glass, or an, "I'm off duty. I'm just here as Severus's fiancé. Happy Christmas Aunt Bella!"

A few drinks and a champagne toast later, the conversation turned to karma, of all things. "Now me," Tonks said, gesturing at herself with a champagne flute, "I'm a big believer in karma. You do something good for someone, something good happens to you. You do something bad, and something bad happens to you."

"Nonsense – that's just morals imposed on the masses to maintain order in society," he remembered saying.

"It works," she insisted. "See here – years ago, Auror Eli Whiting was stationed in Azkaban down the block with some of your Death Eaters, and trying to get his graveyard shift covered so he could celebrate his 30th wedding anniversary with the wifey. No one else wanted to cover it so I volunteered. Needed the overtime pay to pay off my Auror training loans, anyway. Meanwhile, the Ministry decided that with Lucius in Azkaban, maybe they could finally seize his dark objects for once. For some reason they decided to send me this time. Now, most Aurors go in wand-ablazing, tear down the front door, "you're under arrest," etc. I just knocked on the door and said something along the lines of, 'Aunt Narcissa, I'm here on Ministry business I'm afraid. They can't keep avoiding Lucius's collection of dark objects.' She kindly led me to the basement so I could take them back to the Ministry for disposal."

She paused. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Voldemort, Severus, and a few nearby Death Eaters listening intently. She finished her glass of champagne and continued, "While I was there, I noticed that she was really sad… must've been lonely in the huge manor without her husband. I told her that I was covering Eli's shift the following night, and asked if she wanted to come along, and see Lucius. Not _exactly_ permitted, but with my good friend Harry's special cloak, no one would know the difference. So the Malfoy elves fixed up some things for him, and I smuggled Narcissa into his cell for the night - we even cast a few charms to make it more hospitable for that night. Us Aurors are allowed to use a Patronus charm to keep away the Dementors… so I stood stationed outside Lucius's cell, and in the morning, brought Narcissa back home. She left him a photo of herself and a lock of hair… So Tonks does a favor to the Whitings and the Malfoys, and gets a big bonus at work for retrieving all the Malfoys' dark objects, and an anonymous benefactor paid off all of her Auror student loans. So in the end, everyone was happy. Well, everyone except Harry once he found out I used his cloak to arrange a conjugal visit for Lucius."

Voldemort smirked.

"Ah well, can't please everybody," she mused. "By the way, Uncle Lucius?" she called. "I'm assuming that was you who paid off my Auror loans…? I never got the chance to thank you - Thank you so much!"

He raised his wineglass and winked.

"Hey!" McNair roared down the table. "You never arranged me a conjugal visit when I was in Azkaban!"

"A visit with who?" Tonks shouted back. "Your right hand?" The table roared with laughter and a few Death Eaters banged on the table.

"I like her," Voldemort said to Severus, watching with amusement. "Pity she's an Auror." He turned to Tonks. "So when's the wedding date?"

She frowned. "The Ministry turned down our license, said Aurors and Death Eaters couldn't get married. Something about a conflict of interest. Who knew? So anyway, I've been working on a petition… I need a thousand signatures for them to reverse their decision."

Before Severus could stop her, she pulled the long rolled parchment out of her pocket. "I've been carrying it around everywhere I go," she explained. He glanced it over… there were members of the Order, the Ministry, Hogwarts staff, and some names he didn't recognize – former students of Severus's, perhaps. Or random strangers, even. Some had even written comments such as, "The Ministry is overstepping their bounds" or "Maybe a loving wife to come home to will make ole Snape hand out less detentions - if he's still teaching." She still had a couple hundred signatures left to go.

He conjured a quill, signed it, and passed it down the table. "You're good for Severus…he seems much happier with you as a mate," he murmured. "He looks healthier. I haven't heard as many acerbic remarks to my Death Eaters. He smiles more." He glanced at Severus, who was deep in conversation with Avery.

"Speaking of mates, any sign of yours?" Lucius asked. "The Granger girl?"

"Sadly, no," Voldemort said lightly.

"Pity," Lucius drawled, and brushed a stray blond hair out of his face.

"One can only hope," Voldemort said with a toothy smile, not meaning it at all.

…

That was almost ten years ago… interesting, where the idle mind wandered. He had always dismissed love as frivolous and a sign of weakness, but Severus did seem much happier with Tonks, and Lucius was happier with Narcissa… The Granger girl was either dead or in hiding, as far as he knew… he hadn't seen her since, and didn't care to see her again.

Sensing Marcela's gaze, he watched her… She was writing furiously in a journal, flipping to the previous page, and kept glancing up at him, and every so often stopped to suck on the end of her quill.

"What are you writing?" he asked.

"As a healer, I like to a keep a log of any unusual or difficult treatments for patients, carefully documenting it for future use. I've published a few in different medical journals – so other healers can benefit from it. Patients' names changed of course, for privacy."

He nodded. "So you're writing in there about me?"

"More specifically, your condition. What you were diagnosed with, how I'm treating you. Specifically the Nerve-Growth potion, as it's largely an untested experimental potion. Writing in detail how I made the potion and any progress you have."

"Untested?" he said, in a higher voice than usual.

"By MHO standards," she said. "The Magical Healer Organization is rather strict. There's been preliminary, promising trials and case studies, but given the temperamental nature, its complexity, and harmful effects if brewed incorrectly...there's hundreds of steps involved..."

"Which reminds me," she said. "You're due for another dose." She summoned the potion and poured it into a conjured goblet. "Remember to direct your magic to that same spot in your neck," she said. "Ready?" He nodded, and she gave him the potion. She checked his pulse in his extremities, and asked him to see if he could move his arms, his fingers, his legs, and his toes. Nothing. She squeezed each of his fingers and toes to see if he could feel it. Nothing. She cast another stasis charm on the potion and vanished it to the lab.

"And you're sure you brewed it right...?" he asked.

She crossed her arms. "Yes. Trust me."

"What about giving me your blood – that's highly unorthodox…"

"Indeed. I wrote several feet on that – as it is a life-saving procedure, and stressed the fact that no, it's not dark magic, it's common in the muggle world, and wrote about the importance of checking for disease first, and making sure the blood types are compatible."

"I still feel uncomfortable with it… so much of your blood running in my veins…" he shuddered.

She gave him an exasperated look. "What, I have girly cooties and they'll infect you and you'll start wearing pink and flirting with boys and getting your nails done?"

He barked a laugh at that. "You do know there's an older form of magic to return spilled blood back into the patient…?" he asked.

"Your blood was all muddied with the spilled engine oil and antifreeze and who knows what else…it would've poisoned you!"

"What else is in that journal of yours?" he asked, changing the subject.

"There's one procedure I'm working on that would make the faster-acting potions metabolize slower."

"How? Potions masters have tried that in the past, only to have either the subject overdose, or, the potion was made so weak it wasn't very effective. Look at what happened to Sir Gobsworth when he tried to make a Strengthening potion that lasted longer than a couple of hours – the potion was so concentrated he was strong enough he broke his mistress in half, and contracted liver and kidney failure."

"Ah – but that's because he assumed he could just triple the Gryffin muscle strings, dump it in the potion, and call it a day. Thought if he took three times as much, at the start, it would last three times longer. Of course it has an exponential effect, and would hit the body all at once."

"So what's your solution then?" he asked.

"Muggles have devised a way of taking a medicine that's metabolized fast by the body. Genius, really, in its simplicity. Design a pill with an exterior hard enough that the body can't digest it. The medicine goes inside, and is released through a tiny hole in the pill."

His eyes widened. "Like sand going through an hourglass?" She nodded. "What happens to the shell if the body can't digest it?"

"Comes out the other side," she said, simply.

"Ah," he said. "Theoretically, that would work. But how do you plan to reduce a potion to a size that can fit in a reasonably-sized capsule? Any excess heat- boiling off the water, for instance, will disable the enzymes. And forget a sieve – the ingredients are usually dissolved in the water."

"In that case," she said. "I plan to use a dessicator." At his blank expression, she continued. "It's a muggle chemical, used in such situations. If every potion molecule bonds to say, twenty water molecules, then your active ingredients in the potion can be separated from all that water. Really brings down the size."

"You really seem to be pushing the muggle methods," he observed.

"Well," she said. "My coworkers may have been hesitant at first, but now they see how magic and muggle medicine can work well together, and accomplish more than trying the same thing over and over. I'm trying to think outside the box here, find new solutions to common problems."

"Some may not approve of you using muggle technology," he said in a low voice.

She frowned at his tone and crossed her arms. "Need I remind you, you would be a corpse in the dirt right now, save for me pressing on your heart and breathing air into your lungs. That's a muggle technique – CPR. There _is no equivalent_ in the wizarding world."

He blinked. In a tight, high voice, he said, "I...I died?"

"You stopped breathing and your heart stopped. So yes. And with muggle methods, I was able to bring you back to life."

He didn't say anything the rest of the day.

She was a little worried when he didn't eat dinner that night.

"Stay with me," he said quietly, when she tucked him in that night and turned off the light. He didn't think she heard, but she returned a few minutes later, wearing that same silk nightgown. His mouth went dry. He watched as she slid in the bed behind him and slipped her arm around him.

"I felt that," he said softly. She raised his hand higher on his chest, until he said he was numb again, and then towards his left side until he couldn't feel it, to his right, and then down towards his waist. "It's working," he said.

She tightened her arm around his chest, and he fell asleep.

…

"Do you not have house elves that could do such menial work for you?"

The dishes paused their washing and the mop stopped washing the floor. She turned around slowly, and put her hands on her hips.

"Even if I could afford a house elf I wouldn't buy one. It's slave labor. They deserve freedom."

He barked out laughter. "They enjoy serving us – why it's a shame you don't have any." She pursed her lips.

"Think about it," he said. "They enjoy serving us. It makes them happy. They are not doing it against their will, and they are not doing it because they are forced to. So it's not slavery. More like... volunteerism, or altruism. Or a symbiotic relationship – they take care of witches and wizards, who provide them food and shelter."

"It's brainwashing," she said. "They've been raised that way by magicfolk, and don't know how to live differently," she said flatly.

"We live in a society and culture that ingrains norms and expectations in you... from birth. Did society 'brainwash' you into wearing clothes and shoes? Paying for goods and services with bits of metal? Waiting in line for things? Bathing on a regular basis? Does it feel wrong if you or someone else doesn't follow these... rules?"

"That's a really interesting point," she said. "I um...never thought of it that way..." she said, fingering a lock of hair. "Even little things – I never understood the tradition of having cake on your birthday or a tree in the living room for Christmas, but it feels weird not to have it. I've had nightmares of being in public naked..."

"So, would you consider yourself brainwashed?" he asked.

"No...," she said, although she sounded uncertain, even to herself.

"Why would you call it a nightmare of being in public naked? Everyone knows what a naked woman looks like," he pointed out.

"In the nightmare I feel... humiliated, like everyone is staring at me and pointing, and I can't leave without more people seeing me."

"I've heard it's a common nightmare. But what if you were in a women's changing room? A healer's office? In a lover's bed? Posing in an artist's studio?"

"That's different," she said. "Although, I would feel uncomfortable posing for a male artist."

"Now we're narrowing down from social norms to gender norms. Why?"

"Men can feel...predatory. Why does this artist insist on painting female nudes? If it's about the beauty of the human figure, why not paint a male nude?"

"Women are beautiful. Men are just... hairy and lumpy and smell bad and start fights. It's a wonder your gender puts up with us."

She sniggered. "You're handsome – your dark eyes, flowing hair, golden skin, muscles, bone structure..."

He looked uncomfortable. _Handsome... if only she knew how I really looked – she'd probably run. I used to be good looking..._

"So tell me... what sort of research brings you to these parts?" she asked, changing the subject.

"The ancient Mayan priests. I've been searching for old and forgotten magic for years, researching old civilizations – the ancient Greek priestesses and so forth."

"What makes you think the Mayans had magic?" she asked. "I know they were an advanced civilization but…"

"I've been studying the priests. Besides human sacrifice, reading, writing, and communicating with their supposed deities, they also practiced astrology, divination, and prophecy. They were healers, herbalists, curers, divined things through dreams or trance, and the position was usually hereditary, passed on to sons or close relatives."

Her eyes went round. "So either they were showmen, astronomers and medicine-men, or maybe they were seers, brewing potions, casting charms..." she murmured. He nodded.

"Have you talked to the modern-day Mayans?" she asked, excited. "Maybe they know something, passed down from generation to generation!" Her eyes lit up.

"Not yet," he said. "I was on my way to the temples when I met you. Thought I'd start there, see what I can find. Old relics, ghosts, magical signatures, magical imprints, things of that nature."

"That's not too far from here!" she said. "I'll go with you!" She felt her stomach flutter with excitement.

"We should go at night," he said. "There's lots of tourists during the day, and the temples are closed off to visitors. We'll have to sneak in."

"This is exciting!" she said. "I told work I had a family emergency and had to take some time off, never thought I'd be sneaking into the pyramids!"

"Family emergency?" he repeated.

"It was the best excuse I could think of that would permit me several months off. It was either that or take you to the hospital with me, and they'd be forced to report me for vehicular assault once they found out what happened to you. Seemed easier this way. No legal trouble, no jeopardizing my license or my career…" she said, turning red with guilt.

"Indeed," he said. _Vehicular assault… I've done a lot worse than that… Hey, she thinks like a Slytherin…a Gryffindor would've turned themselves in, no doubt._

That night found them in her repaired car driving down a gravel road in the jungle to the temples. He still couldn't move his limbs so she brought the carpet in the trunk.

"You ever wonder if reality is different than how you perceive it?" he asked.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. _Does he know who I really am? I know he's from England... did I give myself away commenting on house-elves? Does he have ties to Voldemort's side? What if he notifies Voldemort? Is Bella still after me? What would Voldemort do if he saw me? Oh gods…_ "What do you mean?" she said slowly.

"It's interesting, how your coffee cup appears to be stationary, even though to someone standing on the ground, it would appear to be moving about 80 kilometers an hour. But the Earth is traveling around the sun at 108,000 kilometers per hour..."

She exhaled with relief. "And the solar system is moving around the galaxy at 828,000 kilometers per hour, which is moving through the universe... How do you know so much about Einstein's Theory of Relativity?"

"I told you...I was raised by muggles, and read a lot. Especially during the long boring summers after… after the school year ended. Can't very well read _Advanced Potionmaking_ in front of muggles."

She laughed. "I suppose not." She turned on to a winding dirt road. "I'm the same way," she said. "'Know-it-all,' they called me. Or 'bookworm.'"

"Nothing wrong with that," he said. "I've been called it too. So speaking of obscure theories, what are your thoughts on Gliny the Elder's Magical Field Theory?" he said.

"I think he has a point with magic actually being in waves, and constructing his spectrum of magical frequencies and wavelengths. Look at how haywire electricity goes around...magical establishments," she said. _I almost said Hogwarts. Have to watch that. I don't want to have to answer any questions about my past…. He's so easy to talk to…_ "The Wizarding Wireless Network and radios even interfere with each other if you put them close together."

 _So she is from England!,_ he thought. _I almost said Hogwarts earlier. Have to be careful. I don't want to invite any questions about myself…. the wizarding world is too small as it is._ Out loud, he said, "I always assumed magic energy was a superior force to gravity, static charge, or magnetism. A levitating charm or 'Mobilicorpus' obviously goes against gravity, and a summoning charm seems to react pretty similar to the magnetic attraction between opposite poles."

"I always thought magic was manipulating the physical forces," she said. "'Mobilicorpus' manipulating the polarity of the subject and the ground beneath it."

"Possibly," he said, but he looked doubtful. "Or what about a Color-changing charm? Is magic changing the properties of the subject so it only reflects back the desired color? Or is it an illusion?"

 _When's the last time I was able to have an intellectual conversation with somebody?_ she thought. _With him, I can discuss healing methods, experiments, sociology, how a car works, obscure physics theories, we're on our way to search for forgotten magic... he seems to read anything written down, just like I do! I don't care what that goddamn prophecy says, I found my soulmate._

They arrive at the gates of the Tikal National Park. She pulled the car off to the side, and turned the headlights off. "We're here," she said.

Once she had him out of the car and on the carpet, she cast a disillusionment charm on the car and themselves. By tugging the edge of the carpet, she was able to pull him beside her. There were several pyramids.

"That one," he said, pointing to an old ruin off to the side that practically hummed with magic… it made her hairs stand on end. She climbed up the steps, guiding the carpet beside her. The entrance was high above the treetops. With a wave of her wand she opened the steel grate door and they stepped inside.

"Lumos," she whispered. They followed a long passageway into the bowels of the pyramid, carefully checking any rooms. Most of it seemed pretty empty- no doubt by the Mayans themselves, or Conquistadores, or archaeologists.

"Shine your wand over there," he said. "At eight o'clock." There was writing etched on the walls. She ran her hand over it, and felt magical sparks jump to her hand. They looked at each other, and back at the writing. She pressed her hand to it, and the wall vanished, revealing a cavernous passageway. They looked at each other, and she could see his eyes light up, same as hers. Gingerly, they walked down the passageway, torches lighting themselves as they passed. Spiders scurried from the light.

The passageway opened up into a room illuminated by torchlight, Mayan writing etched on the walls. Mayan gold and what looked like dusty potions and herbs rested on a stone table, and a dusty skeleton lay in the corner. "Wow," he murmured.

In the center on a pedestal was a large parchment tightly spooled in a holder. She glanced at him, and gently poked it with her wand – magic sparks flew to it, but nothing more. She gingerly poked it, stroked it with her finger, and when nothing happened, unfurled it. She pulled the carpet so he could read it too. It was all Mayan, but by tapping it with her wand, the writing rearranged itself into English.

He drew a sharp intake of breath. "It's... it's old spells," he murmured. "Very old spells... or incantations, as the author wrote."

She moved her finger down the parchment. "Look... it looks like a... potion of some kind..." He read it over her shoulder.

"Let's take it with us," he said. "The muggles running the park won't notice, and this could have secrets for wizarding kind..." She tried to remove it, but it wouldn't budge. She used her wand, and nothing happened. She tried again, harder.

"Do you hear that?" he asked. There were eerie voices in the hallway, growing louder and closer. They went silent when she let go, and grew louder when she tried to remove it.

Angry spirits flooded the room, and he felt goosebumps as the temperature dropped. He shivered. She had goosebumps too, he noticed.

"Finite incantem!" she yelled, but it did nothing. She used her wand to cut through the stone pedestal the parchment was on. The spirits ran at her, grasping at her robes.

"Make a fire!" he yelled. She cast a fire behind them at the spirits, grabbed the parchment, leapt on the carpet with him, and fled out the passageway. She closed it behind them just in time, sealing out the angry spirits.

They flew out of the pyramid. She felt dizzy and lightheaded looking down, and landed the carpet on a landing near the top of the pyramid.

"It's beautiful," she said. She was lying on the carpet with him, watching the night stars. He murmured in agreement, lying on his back, watching the shooting stars, her lying beside him. _I think I understand what they mean by 'soulmate,' now,_ he thought. _That damn prophecy was wrong… that bushy-haired mudblood isn't my soulmate, this witch is. The prophecies work in probabilities anyway, it's not exact. She reads and knows as much as I do, and she doesn't just parrot back knowledge… she knows how to think, how to apply it. Clever witch…if she did go to Hogwarts, I bet she was in Slytherin… I should ask Severus if he remembers a Marcela Santos._


	5. Change

Author's Note – This chapter has been revised from its original version.

Chapter Five - Change

They spent the night on top of the Mayan pyramid, excitedly going over the parchment of old spells and forgotten knowledge, chatting, gazing at the night sky and watching the sunrise. Just before they left, she made a copy of the pedestal and parchment to replace the one they took. If anyone went inside, it would look like no one had been there.

Over the next few weeks, they poured over the huge roll of parchment, making notes and she tested what she could. They broke into the other pyramids, but they were empty… While she thought maybe they were simply for show, he thought maybe someone had beaten them to it and taken the parchment… archaeologists, or maybe the Mayans did before the Conquistadores could seize them. She was insistent on talking to the Mayans in the country, although he pointed out that while they both knew Spanish, they would probably have more luck if they learned Mayan…. It would be more respectful, and some words may not translate to Spanish anyway. So they used the parchment and the translator spell to learn Mayan where they could.

The days flew by and soon she realized the three months were almost over. He was starting to feel more and more, and his legs were starting to work again. He could walk, although with an awkward gait. His arms were still paralyzed, however. She slept in the bed with him every night since that one night.

They went to visit an old Mayan village not too far from her house, bringing a basket of homemade tortillas, pork, avocados, chocolate, coffee, tamales, and beans as a gift. Dressed in simple, modest robes, they walked through the village and were guided to the elders in a temple. Old and gray with leathery wrinkly skin, the elders dressed in the colorful, traditional Mayan clothing and studied them with suspicion.

"Ba'ax ka wa'alik," Alejandro said. _Hello._ "We come bearing gifts… We would like to meet with your priest and seek his advice," he said in his best Mayan.

"We have no one here! We have no priest!" the oldest hissed. He had long wiry gray hair almost to his waist.

"Please," Marcela said. "You must have someone… who heals your sick and wounded? I'm a healer myself, and seek his help."

"They're imposters!" one of the elders yelled. "Get them out of here!" Four wiry muscular guards that could've been Beaters glided forward and grabbed their arms. She fought against them, but it was like trying to fight Hagrid's brother. She glanced over at Alejandro, whose arms were still paralyzed, and couldn't use magic due to the Nerve-growth potion. "Wand!" he mouthed.

"Halt!" said a female voice, and the four guards stepped back. An older woman, tall, barefoot, and dressed in blue and gold robes came out from the shadows. She lowered her hood and the light shone on her gleaming silver hair. She glided forward, inches from the two of them. She studied them closely, peering from one eye to the other, staring at Marcela, at Alejandro, and back at Marcela.

"Imposters," she murmured. "How curious…. very interesting…" she murmured. "I am the priestess. Come with me." She turned her back and started walking, without looking to see if they were following her. Alejandro and Marcela glanced at each other and followed her. _Imposters? Does she know who I really am? Do they know? Or are they just suspicious? We should've spoke Spanish. I feel an aura of magic around her… she must be a witch,_ he thought.

"Sorry, but what's curious?" Marcela asked, using the translator spell. The priestess turned and looked at her closely.

"All in good time," she said. She led them to the edge of the village and inside a mud and stone hut with a thatched roof.

"No puede hablar maya," she stated once they were inside, switching abruptly to Spanish. _You can't speak Mayan._

"Lo siento," Marcela said, apologizing.

"Solamente un pocito," Alejandro said, admitting their little knowledge of Mayan.

"Siéntense!" she said, gesturing at the chairs. Alejandro and Marcela sat down. The priestess carefully arranged her blue robes and sat down, as if it the wooden chair were her throne. Holding her hands out, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

"Interesante…ambos son la magia," she said, opening her eyes. "Puedo sentirlo." _Interesting…both of you are magic. I can feel it._

 _She can tell we're magicfolk?_ Alejandro thought. _She must be a witch! I was right about the priests!_ He looked over at Marcela, who looked just as excited. _I bet she knows all the old and forgotten magic, passed down from generation to generation!_

"Vinimos buscando conocimiento. Hechizos, pociones-" Alejandro began, admitting the purpose of their visit. Her eyes narrowed. _We come seeking knowledge. Spells, potions…._

She inturrupted him. "¿Por qué debería ayudarte?" _Why should I help you?_ "Por qué?" she demanded.

Alejandro glanced warily at Marcela… they had envisioned it differently.

"Trajimos usted regalos," Marcela tried, gesturing at the basket. She had even included a couple blankets at the last minute.

"Tenemos comida!" she said, dismissing the offerings with a wave of her hand. She studied Alejandro curiously, whose arms hung limp by his sides since they arrived. "Por qué no puede mover sus brazos?"

"Ella me golpeó con su coche y se me paralizó. Ella me ha estado sanando. Mis piernas se paralizaron también," Alejandro said. _She hit me with her car and paralyzed me. She has been healing me. My legs were also paralyzed._

Her eyes widened and she leaned in closely. Seized by an idea, Marcela described how she had saved his life and added, "Soy un sanador. Te diré lo que sé. Si me dice lo que sabe usted." _I am a healer._ _I'll tell you what I know. If you tell me what you know._

For the first time, the priestess gazed at them with respect. She extended a weathered hand and Marcela shook it. As they talked, the afternoon sun sank below the horizon. They talked late into the night by fire and candlelight, dining on the goods in the basket.

…

"You save people's lives. Witches, wizards, muggles, mudbloods…" he stated incredulously one evening.

"Don't say that word in front of me!" she snapped, and slapped him across the face.

"Why?" he asked. "They're worthless low-lives, passing on our secrets to muggles…"

She moved to slap him again, and his hand shot out and caught her wrist. He stared at his hand with surprise…. He hadn't been able to move it before then.

"I take it you're cured then," she grunted, twisted out of reach, and tried to slap him again. He blocked her, she aimed for his face, and was blocked again. They scuffled, knocking things over without caring. He grabbed her hands, she struggled to escape, but he held her fast. Panting, she looked into his face. A sheen of sweat shone on his forehead. She tried to wriggle free, but he held her tight. He raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eye.

Next thing she knew, she didn't know who started it, but they were kissing – his hot mouth was on hers, his tongue thrust in her mouth, her soft breasts crushed against his chest, his hard manhood poking her stomach.

He tore her dress off, she unbuttoned his robe, he vanished her underwear. She dropped to her knees, grasped his manhood, licked and sucked his balls, and licked up and down his shaft, reveling in his grunts with every stroke. He moaned as she took in as much of him as she could.

It had been so long since she had "gotten laid," as Ron would've said…. she was aching with need. He must've been aching as well, as he picked her up with a hand under her arse, carried her to the bedroom, and laid her on the bed.

He undid the front clasp on her bra and her breasts spilled out. He fondled the breasts he had ogled for so long, sucked her nipples, and licked her cleavage. He licked a trail down to the point between her legs and tickled her ever so gently, teasing her. She arched her back and moaned. He licked her, nibbled her aching nub, bringing her to the point of release and denying it.

"Take me!" she whispered, and he thrust inside her. She was gushing wet, and gasped; her folds stretched around his thick shaft.

She was so hot and wet and soft inside, and seemed to invite him in and pull him inside. _It felt so so good… it had been way too long…_ _Bella was nothing to this beautiful, sexy witch._

He thrust deep inside her, holding on tight to her. He was so huge, and yet she clutched his arse and impaled herself on him to the hilt. He gasped. His head was deep inside, filling her, stretching the inner walls. He thrust harder, faster, thrusting deep inside her.

She flipped him on his back with her hips and rocked back and forth as he rubbed her nub. She moaned louder and louder until she shuddered in ecstasy just as his manhood pulsed as he came inside her.

She felt so close to him, blissful, and content…Breathless and panting, she still felt waves of pleasure rocking her body even as her eyes slowly widened in horror, his in shock. His brown eyes were reddening, his skin paled, his dark glossy hair receded to just a bald head, his nose shrank to a serpentine nose... "Oh my god!" she shrieked, a hand over her mouth. The color drained from her face. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her throat was dry.

His mouth gaped open, he watched her features change as well…he touched the ends of her hair, feeling it change from straight to bushy beneath his fingers. "You!" he snarled.

She looked down between them and realized he was still inside her. He looked down as well and must've realized the same thing…he pushed her off him.

She jumped off the bed and grabbed the sheet to cover herself.

"A bit late for that," he muttered. "I already saw everything."

She grabbed her wand off the nightstand and pointed it at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Do you _really_ think you could beat me in a duel?" he drawled. "Me?"

She bit her lip and lowered her wand. She threw a robe on the floor over her head and grabbed the door handle.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said slowly. "Sit," he hissed. She hesitated. "Sit!" he hissed louder, and hit the bed next to him. Her heart pounding, she slowly sat on the very edge of the bed by the door, poised like a runner.

"Explain!" he demanded.

She took a deep breath and breathed again. When she trusted herself to speak, she said, "All these years I was trying to hide from you. After that battle I fled here, thinking it'd be the last place you'd go, assumed a new identity, new appearance, brewed Permanent Polyjuice, started working as a Healer…." _Never thought I'd be sitting in bed post-coitus with a naked Voldemort…_

Voldemort nodded. "I took the same potion about ten years ago to have some anonymity. Carried out the war through my connection to my followers and a reserve of normal Polyjuice. A few years ago, I came to South and Central America to study the ancient civilizations for any forgotten magic."

"Did you know who I was?" he asked.

"No. There were odd hints here and there but I guess I never put two and two together." _Two and two_ slammed _together now… the English accent, the familiar wand, the odd look when I mentioned my short-tempered potions master, his thoughts on house elves and muggleborns, the flash of anger in his eyes when I made fun of his title (it was so quick I thought I imagined it!)…. I even remember thinking he was my soulmate!_

"I should've known!" she moaned. _How could I be so stupid?_

"Likewise," he said.

"It's…ironic," she said softly. "The prophecy was fulfilled precisely because we were trying to avoid it. We assumed disguises, and didn't recognize each other… like the Greek myth about Oedipus."

"Fulfilled the prophecy?" he asked. "We – met. That's it."

Sitting Indian-style, he looked out the window. The moonlight reflected off his pale bald head, his pale features, his pale hairless body. _He looks like one of those Greek marble statues_ _,_ she thought. _I wonder if the red eyes and snake-like nose are curse damage? All those experiments he's done..._

"Oh gods…what have I done?" she moaned. "All the blood on your hands, Harry's like a brother to me… and I saved your life! Took care of you! Slept with you!" she yelled.

"Well if you hadn't hit me with your car this never would've happened, would it?" he hissed. "Can't believe I slept with a mudbl…"

"Don't say that word!" she yelled. She sighed. "After everything I did for you, can I ask you something?"

"What?" he said impatiently.

She looked into his unnaturally red eyes. "End this war," she said firmly.

He raised a hairless eyebrow. "What do you think I've been trying to do? You think I like having a stalemate?"

"End it," she said. "Disband the Death Eaters, leave Harry alone, don't kill or torture anyone else. Stop this fighting."

"The answer is no," he said firmly.

She stepped into her shoes and slipped on a cloak.

"Wait," he growled. She turned around, halfway to the door. "Don't use a Morning After potion or abort the baby," he hissed.

"I promise you," she said, and added, "It's my baby too."

She ran out the door. She looked back once, to see Voldemort's head buried in a spidery hand, the other hand clenched in a fist.

She walked out in the moonlight, trying to clear her head. _I'm certain I did the right thing, but why do I feel so empty, so alone?_

She aimlessly walked through the jungle and along a riverbank, thinking over the child, him, the prophecy, whether she should stay in Guatemala or return to England, how she would be received in England by her friends and the Order now that the prophecy was fulfilled, how she would care for the child, what the child would be like, thinking about Voldemort-Alejandro-whoever he was…. _Who is he, really? Was Alejandro just a persona? Or is that closer to his true self, and is Voldemort the persona?_

She wandered until daybreak, when she reached a diner and had breakfast.

….

He flew back to the flat where he was staying. Dark magic was most convenient...

He saw the wear and tear in his forces – Bella had grown increasingly mad over the years, Lucius had picked up his drinking habit again, much to Narcissa's chagrin, Wormtail had a nervous tic worse than ever, Goyle Junior was graying prematurely, and McNair had more lines on his face than Dumbledore had.

 _I have been fighting for so long… to suddenly just… end it? I couldn't do that. Never. Not when I'm this close, I'm not about to give up now. She would just have to live with that. If not, well I've been just fine being single, I don't need a witch!_

… _.If she doesn't cave in, surely there were ways to manipulate her… Gryffindors in particular were easy to manipulate… I already know she doesn't like seeing others in pain… maybe I could strike a bargain? Negotiate with her? I can't torture her – not while she carries my child. I wonder what the kid will be like… can't believe the new Heir of Slytherin will be a quarter-blood, at best._

He Floo-called the hospital she said she worked at, only to receive a message that she had quit a couple weeks ago, and no, they didn't know where she was, or how to contact her, or why she had quit.

He kept stopping by her home, broke in eventually… and found nothing. All her things were gone. It was empty, as if she had never been there.


	6. Order

Author's Note - The second half of the last chapter was changed a day after it was posted. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Chapter Six - Order

"Severus," Voldemort hissed. "Stay behind." It had been almost a month since he returned to England, and a Death Eater meeting was long overdue. Voldemort had tried a different tactic to end the stalemate – reviewing spells, teaching new ones, and having his followers practice their dueling skills. Those with a slow reaction time had to sprint a few laps around the field, their feet hexed as if they were on fire. A couple hours later, once Voldemort was satisfied with the progress, he dismissed his Death Eaters.

"Yes, my lord?" Snape said, watching the rest of his colleagues disapparate, bent over and trying to catch their breath, clutching a stitch in their side, limping, or wiping sweat from their brow. Voldemort watched every last one disapparate and turned to Severus once they were alone.

"Any sign of her? How's my baby?" he asked. Severus blinked, and raised an eyebrow. _Baby? Merlin…. I still remember teaching her, always raising her hand in class and writing infernally long essays, always with Weasley and Potter…. Come to think of it, I haven't received an owl from her months…. Usually she'd write every so often to seek advice on a potion she was developing._

"Hermione?" Severus said slowly. "It's been about fifteen years since I last saw her…"

Voldemort frowned. "I assumed she would've gone back to her… _friends…_ in England. She wasn't at the last Order meeting?"

"No, my Lord," Severus answered. "Perhaps she is still in hiding... or worried her friends won't be pleased with her. How far along is she, may I ask?"

"A month," Voldemort said. "The Permanent Polyjuice potion didn't work, by the way… I'm disappointed in you, Severus."

Severus's eyebrows knitted together. "Didn't work? I brewed it perfectly."

"It wore off…. I thought it was supposed to be permanent. Lifelong," Voldemort hissed, turning his wand over in his hand. _The punishment for failure was the Cruciatrius._

Severus rubbed his chin. "It was. Only very strong magic – Earth magic, perhaps – would reverse it. I wouldn't be surprised if that's when your souls 'became one.'"

"You may go." Severus turned on his heel. "And Severus? This conversation stays between us." Severus nodded and disapparated.

…..

Harry, Sirius, Severus, Tonks, Kingsley, the Weasleys, and the rest were gathered around the table in Sirius's old home, gathered for the Order meeting, finishing up Molly's delicious cooking.

Hermione apparated on the doorstep. _So much had happened, I'm not sure whether they'll welcome me and my child or not, but I can't hide such a thing from my friends! To think, I'll be a mother to Lord Voldemort's child_ … She hesitated for a moment, and walked in, unnoticed at first over the bustle of noise.

"HERMIONE!" Harry was the first to see her. Conversations stopped. Heads turned, as Harry ran over to hug her. Sirius kissed her cheek. Tonks, Ginny, Lupin, the Weasleys all got up to hug her, a bone-crushing hug in George's case. Snape stood stiffly, but there was no denying that the corner of his mouth upturned in a smile.

"It's good to be back," she said, weary, but smiling all the same.

"Sit down, sit down!" Molly said, making a place for her across the table from Harry, and served up some food for her.

"Some wine for you, my dear?" Molly asked, uncorking a bottle with her wand. "We have a bottle of Elvin wine… quite a nice change, I must say!"

"No thank you," Hermione said.

"My dear, you simply must try it," Molly insisted, "Here, try a sip." And poured her a glass.

"No, I mean I can't," Hermione said nervously, resting a hand protectively on her stomach. Molly looked at her face, looked at her hand resting on her stomach.

The glass Molly was holding shattered on the ground. "You're pregnant!?" she asked.

Hermione nodded. "Well most certainly no wine!" Molly said, as if Hermione had been the one to suggest it.

"How… how far along are you?" Ginny asked, glancing at her stomach.

"Four weeks and two days," Hermione said.

"And it's his?" Harry asked, incredulously. "It's really his?!" he said, in a voice higher than normal, knocking over his chair.

She nodded, and bit her lip. _I shouldn't have come._ Ron looked mutinous. Snape was pinching the bridge of his nose. Harry, Ron, and Arthur looked uncomfortable. Molly was frowning. Harry warily fixed his chair and sat back down.

"Congrats! Congrats!" Tonks said, wrapping an arm around her. "I was wondering when the prophecy would come true! How did it happen? Last I heard, you had fled to Guatemala to be a healer!"

Hermione took a deep breath, and told them how she made the Permanent Polyjuice potion and had hit the disguised Voldemort with her car.

"What?!" Harry yelled. "You hit Voldemort with your car? All these years I've been looking at it the wrong way…." he said, rubbing his chin. "Maybe I should bring a gun to the next battle…"

Hermione winced. Hesitantly, she described how she saved him. Moody and Harry looked furious, Ginny had a look of disapproval to match her mother's, arms crossed over her chest…

"You could've won the war for us!" Ron roared, banging his fist on the table.

"Et tu, Hermione?" Harry said sadly.

"I didn't know it was him!" Hermione protested.

"You gave him your blood?!" Snape said. "You do realize, even the darkest magic uses a few drops at most? And in a potion, not directly in the receptor's veins?!"

"Funny," she said, frowning. "He said the exact same thing – almost verbatim. And I'll tell you what I told him – I gave him a quart at most, muggles give blood all the time, it saved his life, if it's dark magic, then so be it."

He blinked, and stared at her. "I don't keep blood-replenishing potions on me outside of work," she continued. "My blood is O-, and free of diseases. He was bleeding from an artery. Giving blood provided the necessary oxygen-carrying cells, nutrients, and water to the body. Call it what you want, it saved his life. It's a common procedure in muggle medicine."

"You're thinking like a muggle," Snape said slowly. "The plasma might replenish itself daily. The cells will die and replace themselves over the course a few months. But the magic that resides within…magic is forever." At Hermione's widening eyes, he added, "In any magical being, magic resides everywhere…. Hair, skin, tissue, but is particularly strong in the blood. Hence why dragon and unicorn blood is so powerful. The magical essence, signature, spirit - call it what you will - is so strong that any wand made with blood won't respond to the user. It only took a couple drops of Potter's blood to pass on Lily's sacrificial magic to the Dark Lord… he has been able to be near and touch Potter ever since then. Exchanging blood is very… unifying, bonding. The Death Eater initiation rite involves imbibing blood…" his lip curled in disgust.

"I'd rather not go into detail. A journalist witnessed one of the first rites years ago and wrote an article, coining the term 'Death Eaters.' He was killed, but the name stuck. Blood magic was once used widely in wizarding marriage rites as a way to unite and bond the couple. More than connecting them, they would become one, related by blood, not just marriage. Some old wizarding families still do it. In any instance, very little is used, and always in a potion, imbibed, or brushed on the skin. You gave him a quart, _directly into his veins._ " His dark eyes glittered beneath curtains of dark hair.

Hermione's skin paled. "What does that mean for him? For me?"

"I don't know," Snape admitted. "It's never been done before. Maybe he'll be able to feel emotions like love and guilt, because you do. Maybe he'll feel connected to you, like a sock missing its mate, or like Potter's former mind-connection with him. Maybe he becomes more powerful. Perhaps nothing. Only time will tell."

"More powerful?!" Harry said in a higher voice than normal. "Thanks Hermione…."

She felt a lump in her throat. She told them about brewing the Nerve Growth potion, when Snape interrupted, asking about the equipment she used, the ingredients, how long she took to brew it, the effect on the patient, any adverse effects, and so on. She answered his questions, and they launched into a discussion about the pros and cons of opal, and the likelihood of the potion finally being registered.

"Can we get back to the story?" Ron asked impatiently. Snape scowled at him.

"I took diligent notes in a journal, Severus," Hermione added. "I'll show it to you – all my notes on brewing it, the patient's progress, and so on." Snape nodded, and waved for her to continue. She continued her story, talking about taking care of him until he recovered, as she refused to use house elves. Ron and Harry elbowed each other and muttered "spew" when she mentioned it. She huffed and chose to ignore them.

When she got to the part about fixing the car, Arthur's eyes lit up and he excitedly asked her about a dozen questions about the starter. After giving Arthur a crash course in what it does and how they fixed it, she moved on with the story.

She swallowed when she got the part about when they were fighting – somehow it had led to shagging. She paused.

"What happened after that?" Harry asked, watching her intently.

"We – we – well…" she stuttered, and swallowed. She met his insistent green-eyed gaze, and saw her reflection in his glasses. Her cheeks turned pink just thinking of that night. Harry watched her, eyebrows raised as if to say, "Well?" She could feel the rest of the Order's eyes on her.

"I'm head of the Order now – I need to know the full story, Hermione," Harry said in a low voice. She swallowed again, and cleared her throat.

"He said something about muggleborns that pissed me off – I slapped him, he blocked me on the second try, and kept blocking me, grabbed my wrists. The next minute, I don't know who started it, but we were snogging, and… things progressed from there," Hermione said.

"Just to be clear…" Harry said.

"We shagged." Hermione said stiffly.

"When did the Polyjuice potion wear off?" Harry said. "I thought it was supposed to be permanent."

"We er, both came at the same time and that's – that's when we changed back to ourselves …" she said stiffly. Her cheeks were beet red. She forced herself to keep Harry's gaze. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"Mr. Potter has been sticking his nose where it doesn't belong since he first stepped foot at Hogwarts," Snape drawled. "And obtuse enough not to realize that a story ending in your pregnancy would involve intercourse with the father," he said silkily. Harry glared at him.

"Severus," Hermione said. "The Permanent Polyjuice potion failed to live up to its name… I have a theory, but any thoughts as to why it wore off?"

"Surely you've figured out by now that that's when your souls joined," Snape drawled.

"Yes, but why? And why then?" Hermione said.

"Earth magic is rather powerful… it can reverse or render permanent spells and potions inert… such as the Killing Curse, for instance. If taking a life can split a soul in half, then the act of potentially making a life can join two souls together. There's a reason why in the old days a witch or wizard waited until the wedding night to have intercourse, and why consummating the marriage is considered part of the wedding ritual."

"Wait, so anytime a couple shags their souls join?" Ron said.

Snape sneered. "I said _can._ Just as taking a life out of mercy or perhaps accident will not split the soul, an inebriated night of lust or worse - rape - will not join the soul to another. Intent, Mr. Weasley."

"That's interesting," Ginny said pensively. "Your first and last..." Harry's face turned red and he dropped his head on the table.

"How does she know?" Hermione demanded.

Ginny blinked. Most of the table was staring curiously at Harry or Hermione. "Sorry... did I say that out loud?" she asked. No one answered.

"Ginny asked me back when we were dating," Harry mumbled to the table.

"When was this?!" Ron asked.

"Summer after fourth year," Harry grumbled, his head still on the table. "Hermione and I had too much to drink and… It was the night Fred and George brought all the fire-whiskey."

"Oh yeah… that was a fun night!" George said thickly through a mouthful of stew. Molly clapped him on the back of the head. "What? We were trying to take Harry's mind off things, and it worked, didn't it, Harry?" Harry didn't respond.

"Blimey!" Ron said. "I remember you two avoiding each other the next day, I thought you two just had a row or something!"

"Hey Hermione, if you ever need the money, you could sell your story to Rita Skeeter," Tonks said lightly. "She'd have a field day! Or the Quibbler - I can see the headline now…." She mimed a sprawling headline. "'I shagged The Chosen One and You-Know-Who: Granger's Confession.'"

"No thanks… I don't kiss and tell. I don't fancy being 'Harlot Granger' again and receiving Howlers," Hermione mumbled.

Tonks leaned in close. "So, I'm curious…who was…"

"I'm not saying anything about anybody's size or performance," Hermione said stiffly. George hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough.

"This is the best meeting ever!" Mundungus exclaimed. He looked years younger than his age.

"Why are you even here?" Harry said angrily. "All you do is pawn off Sirius's stuff."

"Sorry mate…" Mundungus said awkwardly to Sirius.

"I told you - if you're going to pawn it, sell the damn house elf heads or my mum's portrait," Sirius said.

"I tried, no one will take that ugly mug," Mundungus grunted.

"Moving on…" Harry said in a raised voice, and turned back to Hermione. "I'm scared to ask, but what happened after that?"

"He demanded I explain myself. I asked him to end the war, leave you alone, and quit killing and torturing people. He said no. He asked me not to abort the baby. I agreed. I left after that and came back to England – haven't seen him since."

She ate her food in silence, the only sounds scraping silverware, clanging cups, Ron chewing, and Sirius rocking back on the creaky hind legs of his chair.

"Well." Molly said, breaking the awkward silence. "I guess we all knew this would happen."

"I still don't get…" Ron said. "You… you… shagged him!? Eugh!"

"I told you," Hermione said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He and I were both in disguise, I didn't know it was him..."

"Soulmates," Tonks said dreamily, drinking out of her glass.

"You, Tonks, are a hopeless romantic." Snape said.

"You've been saying that ever since that battle, Severus, but am I truly hopeless? I found you, didn't I?" she cackled.

"Ridiculous. Found me? As if I were wandering about the streets, lost to all…" Snape said. Tonks snorted.

Hermione looked between them curiously. Tonks flashed her left hand; a white gold band and a diamond set in white gold, with inlaid emeralds, sparkled. Severus scowled at her showing off, but a glimmer in his eye suggested he was flattered all the same.

"When did this happen?" Hermione asked.

"Not too long after you left. We went out for drinks that night your prophecy exploded, chatted for awhile, and things progressed from there! Three years later, he asked the question, and we eloped!"

"Harry," Hermione said hesitantly. "You've always been a best friend to me, like the brother I never had…can I ask you something?"

"What?" he said impatiently.

"End the war," she said firmly.

"What do you think I've been trying to do? Do you think I like having a stalemate?" Harry said. She blinked. _Just what Voldemort said…. verbatim._

"No. Just end it. Don't kill him."

He had a pained, closed expression – he didn't have to say a word. It was the same expression he wore when he thought his godfather was the one who had betrayed his parents. "The answer is no," Harry said finally. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

She reached into her robes and pulled out a galleon, tarnished with age. The Dumbledore's Army galleons that were adopted by the Order. "I'm out," she said. "As long as the Order is trying to kill him, I want out."

Harry stared at the coin, and back at her. "Joining the other side?" he said, raising his voice.

"No. Never," Hermione hissed. She raised her sleeves. "Look – no Dark Mark. I just don't want anything to happen to you. Or to him."

"Do you love him?" Sirius asked Hermione. She bit her lip, and dropped her fork, looking down at her plate. Everyone was staring at her, waiting for her response.

"It's a simple question," he growled. "Do you love the bloke or not?" She chewed her lip, and stirred her food on her plate.

"Well?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "I don't know about love. I miss him though," she whispered, so soft he could barely hear it. "I haven't seen him since that night, not a word between us. I feel angry at him, guilty and angry at myself for saving him, but in spite of everything he's done, I feel this empty ache inside my chest, I miss him…. I miss our conversations, the adventures finding Mayan magic, being with him, I miss sharing a bed with him… I don't even know if I'm missing Alejandro or Voldemort, or if they're one and the same."

"I missed talking to him through the diary," Ginny admitted quietly.

"He is…. easy to talk to, isn't he?" Snape muttered. "Took decades after Lily's death, but eventually he and I would meet to play chess or for tea… and just talk. Magical theories, potions I was working on, spells he was developing, the news, Quidditch, my complaints about teaching Mr. Longbottom, and so forth."

"I assume he might feel… similarly as you do," Snape murmured, "It would certainly explain his uncharacteristic behavior as of late."

She turned to him. "He… left for South America several years ago. I brewed him the Permanent Polyjuice - he swore me to secrecy. He had a reserve of normal Polyjuice and his fingernails to host meetings, or gave out orders from afar, through our marks." Severus absently rubbed his left forearm, and took a drink of his firewhiskey. "He came back about a month ago and he seems…distracted."

"Distracted?" Harry echoed. "In what way?"

"Subtle things. I doubt you'd notice, obtuse as you are. Wormtail fumbles an important mission, as usual, and starts rambling. Usually, this ends with the Cruciatrius. He lets Wormtail go on much longer than before. When he finally does crucio him, you can tell by Wormtail's lack of screams despite his incessant whimpering and twitching that his heart isn't behind it. The Cruciatrius Curse requires great concentration, Mr. Potter. Focus.

"And what's more, he's sleeping less than usual – he has bags under his eyes same as she does, his skin and posture looks tired and haggard, same as hers. He held me after the last meeting a few days ago to voice his complaints about the Permanent Polyjuice wearing off, but also to ask if I've seen her and ask about the baby. So yes, Hermione – if it's any consolation to you, I think he might… miss you as well."

Hermione gave a faint sad smile, ran her hands through her unwashed hair, and sighed.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said. "I keep trying to find work, but no one will take me because I'm pregnant, I'm burning through my savings renting a flat and paying bills, my health insurance was with my employer and I quit to come here, I can't afford the prenatal health visits, let alone any complications, I don't know how I'll care for the baby once it's born, I don't know what's going to happen between him and I – it's like my heart wants one thing, my head wants something else, I've been so exhausted lately but I can't sleep, when I do sleep I have nightmares that I'll give birth to a snake-like baby with red eyes, or be a Lady Voldemort presenting Harry's head at his feet, I know I should eat but I'm not hungry, I keep puking, I've lost weight and I know that's not good for the baby, I don't know what I'm going to do…" She paused and blew her nose. "Damn pregnancy hormones aren't helping things either," she muttered. "I miss being five years old…" she whispered. "Everything was so much… simpler."

"Where's your citizenship?" Sirius asked. She blinked at the odd question.

"Dual – I have to keep the Guatemalan one until I pay taxes for the past year, and I may go back there after giving birth, if I can't find work."

He leaned back on the chair legs. "Five years ago the new Minister enacted an Executive Order. Health insurance in Wizarding Britain is collective now. Any witch or wizard from birth is covered – it's paid out of taxes. Private medical care like what the Malfoys have will cost you. If you don't feel comfortable going to St. Mungos, do what I do and see Madam Pomfrey. So yes, you do have access to healthcare." She sighed in relief.

He took a deep drink from his goblet, and banged it on the table. "I can't help you as far as your- your relationship issues, or pregnancy symptoms. A witch would be better for that. Narcissa might be willing to help you as far as the pregnancy issues and baby items, if Molly won't – because of who the father is. If it helps your financial situation, you can stay here – there's some empty bedrooms upstairs – until you get back on your feet."

"Really?" Hermione said, her eyes brightening. "Thank you, thank you…"

"You're welcome to stay, write 'Mrs. Voldemort' all over the walls in lipstick if you want, for all I care – it'd be an improvement, and I'm sure my mother would love it. But - and this is important – my one condition for staying here – do not – I repeat, do not – contact him, or any Death Eaters besides Snape, here, or close-by. You want to meet him for a midnight shag, floo, send an owl, I don't care if it's 'Let's get married!' or 'I never want to see your mug again!,' you do that far from here. Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, London, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, wherever. Not here."

"What!?" Ron said. "How do you know she's not on his side now?"

"Ron," Sirius said impatiently. "If she was on his side, she'd be with him right now. Not us."

"Maybe she's going to attack us – maybe it's him in disguise!" Ron yelled.

Sirius rocked back on his chair, and stared at him. "She's been here over an hour, so it's not an imposter. And if she were to attack us, she would've done it right after she walked in, not finished dinner, told us everything that happened to fulfill the prophecy, how torn she is emotionally, and her worries for the future. I don't need Veritaserum to know she's been honest with us since she got here."

"How are you so calm? How can you support her? You know what he's done! James and Lily!" Harry yelled.

Sirius slammed forward in his chair, and frowned at Harry. "Yes. I knew them better than you did, I miss them. Maybe I've mellowed out in my old age. But she's a friend in need, here and now. I'm not about to shun her because of him. If you're truly her friend, you'll support her too."

"Well said," said Remus, who had been quietly absorbing it all until now.

"I still don't get why you and Tonks have such horrible taste in wizards – Slytherins," Ron said. Snape sneered at him, and looked away, as if Ron wasn't worth his time.

"You really want to know?" Tonks asked, and leaned forward. Ron nodded. "I'm not supposed to tell you this – it's a secret, if fallen into the wrong hands, could be dangerous." She took a sip from her goblet of pumpkin juice. Ron's eyebrows lifted, and he leaned towards her.

"You're aware of all the enchantments on the Sorting Hat, no?" she asked. Ron nodded eagerly. "There's what some may call a curse, others call a blessing – on wizards sorted into the House of Slytherin… it goes way back, almost to the Founding Fathers." Ron leaned in. "All wizards, sorted into that house, once they hit puberty, are enchanted to grow rather, um, larger than nature would dictate. Massive, even."

"What! Really?" Ron asked, scandalized. He looked over at Hermione, who nodded with wide eyes. Tonks patted Snape on the thigh, and snuggled up next to him. He smirked and nodded at Ron, in answer to his question.

"She's fucking with you, Ron," Sirius said impatiently. "My identical twin brother was sorted in Slytherin. Hermione, let's get you moved in before it gets too late." He stood, summoned their coats, and tossed hers to her. She got up and followed him. Tonks bounced up and joined them. Snape stood stiffly and joined them as well. The rest stayed flat in their seats.


	7. Apart

Chapter Seven - Apart

"Where's your flat?" Sirius asked once they reached the outside. "London," she answered, and led the four of them in side-along apparition.

"Why didn't anyone else want to help me?" she asked, leading them to her flat. Snape glanced at her, but there was no malice in his voice as he explained: "They don't trust you – they haven't made up their minds whether you betrayed them or not."

"But – the prophecy! I didn't have much of a choice, did I?" Hermione sighed.

"You should've seen how hard it was for me, after becoming a Death Eater and joining the Order. Members of both sides were suspicious, telling Dumbledore and the Dark Lord I couldn't be trusted, I was a traitor, I wasn't loyal, I should be kicked out, I should be killed, paranoid I would tell the other side all their secrets… some still don't trust me," Snape said, staring at Sirius' back.

"I trust you, I just don't like you," Sirius said. "Anyway, that's different," he added. "You're such a pessimist - maybe they just decided four people was plenty to help gather her things and get her moved in… don't very well need the whole Order for that. Or they were just feeling lazy after finishing a hearty plate of Molly's cooking."

Later that night, her things all unpacked and moved into Regalus' old bedroom, found her tossing and turning, staring bug-eyed at the water-damaged ceiling, fatigued but wide awake and unable to sleep.

….

He lay wide awake in his four poster bed, staring at the faded canopy. He felt this empty ache in his chest ever since she had left. He'd die before he told anyone, but he missed her. _Did she slip a Love Potion in one of the potions or my food? All the times she cooked for me… why wasn't I more careful? I feel… empty. Alone. I've always preferred solitude, why does it bother me now?_

He tossed and turned. Even meditation didn't help. _I even miss sharing a bed with her. Merlin! Can't believe I miss sharing a bed - and with a mudblood. I'm going senile._

 _I wonder where she is, anyway. Is she hiding from me again?_ _I wonder how my baby's doing… I wonder what he'll be like when he's grown. Sorted into Slytherin, no doubt…. I hope she doesn't corrupt him. I suppose it could be a girl…. No, it's a boy. I can feel it._

 _Well if I can't sleep, I might as well do something productive._ He had found the Mayan scroll and her notes in his cloak pocket, shrunk to fit. Returned to their normal size, he summoned it from the desk and poured over it again, trying to see if they missed anything. He tediously translated the spells and potions they hadn't gotten to yet, tested a few, and wrote them down. His mind wandered back to that night they stole the scroll, lying on top of a pyramid and watching the stars, excitedly going over the scroll, chatting, her head resting against his chest as they watched the sun rise.

He thought back to the days spent afterward, sitting on the couch together, or outside, or in bed, or at the kitchen table, trying to translate the old spells and potions, watching as she tested a few of them. He thought back to their visit to the Mayan village, talking to the priestess…. it was her healer knowledge that convinced the priestess to divulge what she knew. _I never told her, but her Spanish was impressive… then again, she had lived there for fifteen years…_

He forced himself to return to the scroll. There were fascinating old forgotten spells and potions to predict the future, extend one's life, a potion that advertised eternal youth or at least reversed aging…. _Before I met her I would've been consumed with the idea, trying to brew and take the potion at any costs… but now, my mind keeps wandering back to her. I should really ask Severus about Love Potions…._

He tossed aside the scroll and notes. _Maybe it's time for another battle… tip the war in my favor. I should recruit more followers… maybe a bigger army and fresh blood would help. Some of my Death Eaters are getting old…. I should train them more, the last training session was pathetic._

…

She cooked breakfast that morning as a thank you, but it was awkward. Sirius sat a couple seats away from her, reading the paper.

"Sirius," she said softly. He grunted.

"Did you mean what you said last night? That it doesn't bother you that I'm – that I'm with – Voldemort, the same wizard who killed your best friend and his wife, and is trying to kill your godson?"

She heard a dropped fork clang on his plate from behind the newspaper. He got up and left the room, taking his coffee mug with him.

He avoided her the rest of the morning, and she didn't see him at lunch.

That afternoon, she was puking for the umpteenth time, when she felt someone hold her hair back. She turned, and Sirius was there with a washcloth.

"Look, I'm - I'm sorry – " she said.

"No – I'm sorry… I know it's not your fault, I know you didn't know who he was when you healed him, that you've just been trying to do the right thing…"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I won't bring them up, I've been trying to avoid saying his name… what should I call him though?"

Sirius half-smiled. "Call him your boyfriend. Or lover. Or baby daddy." She laughed at that.

…

Ginny, Harry, and Tonks stopped by Grimmauld Place the following night after work, having a pint with Sirius. Hermione was surrounded by stacks of books, on one side, a collection of baby and pregnancy books such as _A Witch's Guide: What to Expect when You're Expecting_ , on the other, a stack of books such as _The Rise of Lord Voldemort_ and _The Dark Lord and His Forces._

Ginny stared curiously at the collection of books around her, and idly flipped through a couple. "Anything useful?" she asked.

"Not really," Hermione said. "Nothing I didn't already know or suspect. I keep hoping to stumble upon some… good in him… but it's all war and Dark Arts and death."

"He's so infamous now I doubt a writer would dare write something good and uplifting about him… their career would be on the line if they were suspected to be a supporter," Ginny said.

"That's what I was thinking," Hermione said.

"So how are you feeling?" Ginny asked.

"Still nauseous. I'm relieved now that I'm not worried about running out of savings on shelter and food… I still worry about the future though," Hermione said.

"Don't we all?" Tonks said. "So how is it having Sirius for a roommate?" she said, grinning.

"He's fine… keeps to himself mostly. It's nice having company though. I was feeling lonely."

She frowned as she watched Harry – he hadn't said a word to her, and something about his expression and posture reminded her of their schooldays when he saw Draco. She sighed and turned back to the book she was reading – _Baby and You: Getting Pregnant and Baby's Magic._ After reading the same sentence over and over, she put the book down.

"Harry?" Hermione said, biting her lip. "Can I – can I have a word with you?" she said.

"Fine," Harry said.

He stood and led her to take a seat in the parlor.

"I – I just wanted to say – I'm still for our side, Harry." She raised her sleeve. "Look. No Dark mark."

"You're _carrying his child,_ Hermione. You told us you _saved his life, miss_ him, said you want out of the Order, asked me not to kill him.. _._ you're real pals aren't you? The Death Eaters are servants, Hermione, you're _closer_ than that to him!"

"I didn't know!" she said. "I didn't know it was him! I told you – he had taken the Permanent Polyjuice! By the time I found out, it was too late!"

"Really," Harry said. "Really – you had no idea it was him? None at all? Nothing, over three months together?"

"Yes!" she said. "Yes, in hindsight, it seems _obvious,_ but I didn't know! I thought it was a stranger I had hit with my car, one of the locals or a tourist, maybe. I thought it was utterly ridiculous, mad to think that Lord Voldemort would be in an impoverished rural muggle town in a third world country, thousands of miles from England…yes, I took the same potion, but I didn't think he'd change his appearance, leave the country, learn Spanish... I heard the English accent and thought he was one of the many tourists visiting the pyramids near my house. There were his thoughts on house-elves, but even Ron and Sirius and Hagrid have said the same thing. Or his thoughts on muggle medicine… but even the healers at St. Mungo's and Ron and Molly had the same feelings about Arthur being stitched up that one time. Or his thoughts on muggle-borns – but at least a quarter of Hogwarts feels that way! There was an odd expression when I mentioned a foul-tempered brilliant potions teacher I had in England, or a flash of anger when he saw that _The Daily Prophet_ didn't give him his stupid title, but it was so quick I thought I imagined it!"

 _Oh gods… there was that one time I thought he was my soulmate… 'I don't care what that damned prophecy says, I found my soulmate.'…._ She bit her lip and decided against telling Harry.

Harry looked skeptical. She grasped his hands. "Harry, I'll give you a copy of my memories since the day I ran into him. Everything."

She pulled out her wand, conjured a large vial, and pointed her wand at her temple. She guided a thick white glowing strand into the vial, and corked it. She pressed it in his hand. "If Ginny and Ron want to see it, they're welcome to. If you want me to take Veritaserum, I will – I have nothing to hide."

She walked out, and left a stunned Harry behind, clutching the vial of her memories.

…

"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" Snape said, inclining his head. Voldemort had summoned him to Riddle Manor one afternoon. Voldemort was sitting in an old moth-eaten armchair by the fire.

"Yes. What do you know of Love Potions? How long do they last?" Voldemort asked, steepling his fingers.

Snape raised an eyebrow, but quickly schooled his expression. _Love Potions?_ "They only last a day, and have to be given to the recipient daily."

Voldemort leaned back and raised an eyebrow. Snape continued, sounding very much like the professor he was, "Love Potions replicate the various hormones and neurotransmitters involved in love… oxytocin, dopamine, testosterone, and so forth. All of which are metabolized quickly by the body – the originals and the simulated versions. You can vary the ingredients to simulate a feeling of lust, friendship, trust, romantic love, or parental love… but as soon as the potion wears off, the recipient returns to a normal frame of mind. It's very similar to a drug wearing off, or chronic pain returning once the Painless Potion wears off…"

"Drugs and Painless Potion cause withdrawal effects if taken over time… " Voldemort pointed out. "I imagine a Love Potion would do the same."

"It can," Snape admitted. "But any withdrawal effects would have subsided after a week, at most." He hesitated, and then added, "Hermione was giving you Nerve Regrowth potion, which is temperamental at best. I highly doubt she would've slipped you any class of Love potion, which affects the neurotransmitters – the risk of potion interaction would've been too great. Not to mention her conscience… she's not the type to manipulate another's emotions."

Voldemort nodded.

"My lord," Snape stammered. "May I inquire as to why you summoned me to ask about love potions?"

"No. You may go," Voldemort said, waving his hand in dismissal.

…

"Another bloody mouse," Sirius grunted, trying to petrify it with his wand and missing. "Now that it's getting cold they're all coming in the house. Wish the garden snake out back would take care of them…"

Hermione looked up from her book. "Garden snake?" she echoed.

"It's fine, they're harmless," Sirius said.

"I know, I want to test something…." Hermione said. She put on a sweater and he led her to the backyard, magicked from view by muggles. It was small and narrow, covered in leaves from the one tree in the middle, the bushes unkempt, the garden yellowed and overgrown.

"Over there," Sirius grunted, pointing at a large rock near the tree. "Last time I saw him was behind the rock. It's getting cold – he might be hibernating. Test what?"

Hermione crouched down and conjured a little fire to lure him out with its warmth.

" _A Mother's Magic_ mentioned in passing that if the father speaks a magical language, the mother will inherit it so she can communicate with her baby," Hermione stated.

"So you're a parselmouth now…?" Sirius asked. She nodded. Sirius transfigured a pebble into a mouse and waved it near the hole. "I don't think he's coming out…." Sirius said after a few minutes. Just then, a little black head poked its head out of the hole, sniffing the wriggling, squeaking mouse.

"Hello," Hermione said, reaching out towards the snake.

Sirius shook his head. "English."

She tried again and failed. She focused on the little beady eyes, the glistening dark scales, how it slithered towards the mouse… " _Hello, little one,"_ she hissed. The snake's eyes widened.

" _You speak it?"_ it hissed back. Hermione glanced askance at Sirius – he nodded slowly. She thought he would be more surprised or taken aback like most wizards, but then again, his godson spoke parseltongue for years…

" _Yes... my mate speaks it, and so does our hatchling. What's your name?"_ she asked.

 _"_ _Serena,"_ the snake hissed. _"Who's the tall dog-wizard next to you?"_ She snorted.

"What's so funny?" Sirius asked.

"She called you a 'tall dog-wizard,'" Hermione said, laughing. "I've never had a familiar that could talk before!"

"It's female? Wait, familiar? Um…." Sirius said. Before he could say anything, Hermione turned back to Serena.

 _"_ _You must be getting cold…. You can join us inside if you like. It's warm and there's mice…"_

 _"_ _I'm fine… this is my home. Thank you though,"_ Serena hissed back.

...

Snape stopped by one morning to discuss Order matters, and found Hermione reading in an armchair by the fire, a pile of books beside her.

"Liar!" she yelled, and threw the book across the room.

"And what fine literature are we throwing about?" Snape said sikily. Hermione jumped - she hadn't heard him come in. He stooped and picked up the book. " _A Biography of Lord Voldemort, nee Tom Riddle_ by Hephaestus Smithson _."_

"'Had a vision and sought to improve the wizarding world and return witches and wizards to their greatness,' my arse," Hermione said, arms crossed. "Sorry, Severus," she added.

Snape raised an eyebrow. His mouth quirked as he said, "I suppose I can't take points off Gryffindor anymore," he said. "Yes, you'll find most literature about him is biased one way or the other. Hephaestus was a closet supporter of the Dark Lord. He's not lying though….the Dark Lord did have a vision, of witches and wizards lording above muggles in society, of muggles serving wizardfolk, of a caste system with purebloods at the top, getting rid of the International Statue of Secrecy….although so many have died because of the war, and there's not many of us to begin with…"

"Oy, Snape! Order meeting's about to start!" George hollered. Hermione turned back to her pile of books. "How's Mini-Voldie doing?" George asked, while Snape made his way into the kitchen.

"Mini-Voldie? Fine I guess…can't feel anything just yet. Vitals are normal though."

Once the Order meeting commenced, she pulled out her journal and flipped to her notes on the Nerve Regrowth potion. _Might as well work on the paper I've been meaning to publish._

She pulled out a pad of parchment, quill, and ink, and began writing.

 **The Nerve Regrowth Potion: A Case Study**

She hesitated before deciding to publish under her pseudonym, and naming him 'Patient X' for patient confidentiality. Sucking on the end of her quill, she skimmed through her pages of notes, reading back over her brewing techniques, her patient's initial diagnosis, and progress. By the time the Order meeting ended, she was making an outline. Without a word, she handed Snape a copy of her journal to peruse.

The next day Sirius found her leaned over a desk and furiously writing, the quill tickling the tip of her nose.

"Hermione?" he said, shaking her shoulder, after she didn't respond to him calling her name a couple times. She jumped.

"You need to eat something," he said.

"I'm fine," she said, and turned back to her notes.

"It's almost noon, you haven't eaten since lunch yesterday," Sirius said. She hesitated, and then he added, "You need to eat… think of your baby. Take a break." He grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen. He had made her a big turkey and cheese sandwich, stuffed with vegetables. Leftovers from Molly's stew and potatoes the night before were laid out. He had put out a cup of tea and a glass of milk. Her stomach growled just smelling it, and she sat down.

"I guess I was hungry," she said, once she had half her sandwich.

"You need to eat and rest…your body's hard at work growing a baby right now," Sirius said. "Whatever you're working on can wait."

Hermione stared at him. "You sound like Molly." She had a big bite of the stew.

"She put me up to it," Sirius admitted. "So what are you working on?"

She chewed and swallowed. "I'm going to publish a paper about the Nerve Regrowth potion I brewed for Baby Daddy."

She and Sirius laughed. "What – you insisted…" she said.

"I did," he admitted. "What about it though?"

"It's very experimental, very new, very complex. It's not officially an accepted Healing potion by the MHO - Magical Healer Organization – because only a few trials have been done, and with mixed results. I think the mixed results are due to errors in brewing or administering it, personally. I'm writing an in-depth case study that should help the potion be accepted. It's really rather useful in reversing cases of paralysis. Mandrakes will reverse magic-induced paralysis, but can't restore a broken spinal cord or severed nerve. I'm hoping to publish it in _Potions Periodical –_ it'll help my career too."

"You should talk to ole Snape about it," Sirius said. "Well I'll leave you to finish your lunch. We should get you to a prenatal visit, too."

The next few days he saw her leaning over that same desk, writing foot after foot, her quill racing across the page. He had to remind her a few times to eat or go to bed. Two weeks later, she sent an owl with her finished manuscript to _Potions Periodical_ headquarters.

….

Harry stopped by one morning as Sirius was preparing breakfast – bangers, eggs, toast, and tea. Hermione was going through her notes in the parlor. _I want to publish a paper on my idea for fast-metabolizing potions, but I need to experiment with it first… perhaps a list of potions that would benefit from it…?_ She pulled out some parchment and a quill.

"Hermione," Harry said bashfully. She tensed. "I'm sorry for doubting you. I know you've been trying to do the right thing all along, didn't know who he was…"

She looked up. Her eyebrows knitted together. "Did you view my memories?" she asked.

"No. I realized I didn't need to," Harry said. He pulled the vial out of his robes and handed it back to her. "I'm sorry for being a prat. Can you forgive me?" he asked.

She smiled and they hugged. The aroma of frying bangers reached the parlor. Harry sniffed and glanced towards the kitchen.

"We're about to have breakfast," Hermione said. "Do you want to join us?" He nodded and they walked into the kitchen.

"Oh excellent, glad you're here, Harry," Sirius said. "Do you want the usual, cup of black coffee?" Harry nodded. As Sirius put on a pot of coffee to brew he added, "Hermione has a prenatal visit at St. Mungo's today – my name's still not cleared so I can't go. Can you accompany her?"

"I'll be fine," Hermione said quickly. "I'm a big girl."

Sirius snorted and said, "It's the Death Eaters I'm worried about. Now that you're back in London, if they see you again…particularly my dear cousin."

"I can take you," Harry said. "I don't mind."

"I thought you had work today?" Hermione said.

"I'm an Auror. Escorting civilians at high-risk is part of the job description. And it's just a staff meeting today, anyway." He placed both hands around the cup of coffee Sirius handed him and took a big sip.

"How did you become an Auror? I know that was your dream but it's a pretty lucrative position, and most of them are Aurors for life…" Hermione said. She ate some of her eggs and toast.

"Once Tonks and Snape got married she decided she wanted a family and decided to step aside and conduct training at the Ministry, instead of being constantly in danger on the front lines. Right around then I had finished my training at the Auror Academy. Tonks introduced me to her boss, and I submitted my resume and a vial of memories - me facing Voldemort and the Death Eaters, fighting various creatures, training Dumbledore's Army, and whatnot. Her boss said he didn't need any of it and would've made room for me even if there wasn't an opening. Said he was impressed though."

"Hey!" Sirius said. "We're calling him 'Baby Daddy,' alright? No more 'Voldemort.'"

Harry snorted.

"We should get going," Hermione said, looking at her watch. "My appointment's at 10." She grabbed some toast and put it in her pockets. Harry wolfed down a banger and grabbed their cloaks.

Soon enough, she was lying on a cot, Harry sitting in a chair beside her. The healer, a blond middle-aged woman, came in.

"Well, well congrats, Miss Granger!" she said, glancing at her name on the chart. "Always happy news to have a baby coming! And you must be the proud father!" she said, glancing at Harry.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "I'm not the father," Harry said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm just a friend."

"No? Well nice to meet you, Mr. Potter, I've heard a lot about you…" she said, gawking at his scar. "Who is the father, may I ask? Where is he?"

"I'd prefer not to say," Hermione said. The healer peered at her over the chart with a puzzled expression.

"My dear, you can tell me! It's not like it's You-Know-Who!" she said. Harry and Hermione looked at each other. She looked between them and frowned with concern. "I'm so sorry. You have options – the Ministry provides counseling and legal recourse to witches in your position. You don't even have to carry this child. No one would blame you if you didn't…"

"What?" Hermione said in a high voice. "I wasn't raped! I'm not aborting my child!" she said angrily. Harry squeezed her hand.

"Um, okay… when you're ready, just say the word. There's some pamphlets on the Ministry's services on the back of the door. Okay, let's get started." She waved her wand and a series of blue numbers appeared in the air. "So your heart rate is 70, blood pressure is 125 over 62, very good…" "Sonorus," she whispered over Hermione's abdomen and they could hear baby's heartbeat, so fast one beat started as soon as the last one ended. She waved her wand again and more numbers appeared. "Baby's heart rate is 170 beats per minute, yes it is rather high when they're this little. When was your last menstrual period?"

"August 10th," Hermione said.

"She conjured a tape measure and measured Hermione's abdomen. "Fundal height is measuring normal for three months." She waved her wand over Hermione's abdomen muttering a spell, and an enlarged image appeared in air of the fetus, bouncing around, floating about, tethered only by the umbilical cord.

"Awww, it's cute…" Harry said. He looked over at Hermione and saw she had tears in her eyes.

….

Yet another damned Holiday Banquet at the Malfoys…the goddamned peacocks had glittering emerald collars this time. Lucius had outdone himself this time; there were fairies flitting about the foyer and magicked snow falling from the ceiling, like the Great Hall at Hogwarts. This time of year Lucius had banquets for the Death Eaters, members of the Ministry, and one for the high and mighty pureblood members of society. Sometimes he even hosted fundraiser banquets for running Ministers during election year, St. Mungos, or for Hogwarts.

Wine, champagne, eggnog, and cocktails were flowing, the house elves had prepared a multi-course feast, there was a live band and dancing…. Lucius knew how to throw a party. Voldemort only stirred his food though, nursing a glass of goblin wine and looking off in the distance or idly watching the couples – dancing, chatting, flirting, laughing…

"What's wrong, my Lord?" Lucius asked. He was dressed in an elegant white and silver robe that matched his hair, holding a martini glass. _Ever the perfect host, wanting to make sure everyone had a good time._

"I'm fine," Voldemort muttered and dismissively waved him off.

"Bollocks. You've barely said a word all evening, you haven't touched your food," Lucius pointed out.

"I said I'm fine, leave me alone," Voldemort said brusquely. Lucius's eyes swept the ballroom until he spotted Bellatrix, far off by the bar, deep in conversation with Avery. Voldemort followed Lucius's gaze.

Lucius bent down, his long blonde hair brushing Voldemort's shoulder, and whispered in his ear, "It's the girl, isn't it?"

"Lucius…" Voldemort said in a low, dangerous voice. Lucius recognized the tone and backed away.

Toward the end of the night, Bella crept over. "My lord, you don't look happy," she said.

"I'm fine, Bella, leave me in peace," Voldemort said in a cold voice.

"I can warm that cold heart of yours…" she whispered in his ear, her talons grasping his shoulder and creeping towards his chest. "There's some empty bedrooms upstairs…"

He plucked her hands off him. "For Merlin's sake, show some decorum, Bella."

"But my Lord, it has been so long…." she protested.

"No," Voldemort said. Without another word, he got up and left. Bella stared after him, a calculating expression on her gaunt face.


	8. Malfoys

Chapter Eight - Malfoys

Another year, another Christmas… Sirius was hosting Christmas this year. Molly and Arthur were canoodling in the kitchen as she prepared dinner, the Wizarding Wireless was playing Christmas carols, and Ginny and Harry were decorating the tree. Sirius was playing a game of Exploding Snap with Ron, George, and Remus. Moody, Kingsley, and Kingsley's wife were discussing Ministry matters over a few shots of Firewhiskey. Fleur and Bill were flirting by the stairs, and Snape and Tonks had just arrived. Tonks was as excited as a young kid at Christmastime, whereas Snape looked like he'd rather be spending a quiet night at home.

Hermione sat in a reclining chair by the fireplace, surveying the scene. _I don't belong here._ She rubbed her growing belly. She was almost four months now. _And I still don't know what to name the child… I don't even know if it's a boy or girl… definitely Granger for the last name though. No child of mine will have Voldemort for a last name! I wonder where he is, if he ever thinks of our child…_ Her expression saddened as she watched the happy couples.

"Missing someone?" said Snape. His dark eyes glittered.

"Would it be bad if I said yes?" Hermione said. His mouth twitched. _He's laughing at me!_

"Not entirely. So have you decided on a name?" he asked.

"Not yet," she said. "Something Granger. Definitely not Something Voldemort."

He snorted. "A wise decision. Although I think the first name could use some work. 'Something'?"

She smiled. "I hadn't decided… perhaps after my parents – Hugo if it's a boy, Rose if it's a girl."

He nodded. "So I looked over the copy of the journal you lent me. Have you published any papers recently?"

"I wrote a long case study on the Nerve Regrowth potion and submitted it to _Potions Periodical –_ I'm still waiting to hear back from them. It's under my pseudonym, Marcela Santos, and Voldemort is simply, Patient X. I want to do some testing before publishing my idea of using a dessicator and a time-release capsule for fast-metabolizing potions."

"It's an ingenious idea – I have the lab equipment and potion ingredients if you want to test it. My potions business could use a product like that. I can help you…" Snape said.

"And here I thought I was the 'insufferable know-it-all.' I suppose in return you'd like your name on the paper as well," Hermione said.

"Which is why I trust you working in my lab – I've never seen you blunder a potion. I'd like our names on a patent as well - an idea like that would be copied in a heartbeat. We could split royalties. Do we have an agreement?" He extended his hand and she shook it. "Excellent, floo over to my lab tomorrow at 9 am."

She got up and joined the rest of them as Molly served Christmas dinner. Roast lamb with gravy and potatoes and rolls and green beans and curry….the mingling aromas from her plate triggered an overwhelming urge to vomit. A hand clamped over her mouth, Hermione got up from the table, green in the face. She ran to the bathroom. While some of them like Harry and Ron looked alarmed, others such as Sirius, Ginny, Molly, and Tonks looked concerned.

"Sorry Molly," she said, when she returned. "It looks so good but any strong smells make me feel nauseous these days…."

Molly's expression softened toward her. "Don't apologize dear, I remember those days…. Let's get you some ginger tea. Just potatoes and rolls for you unless your stomach decides it's up for more." She got up and prepared some tea for her. "Have you felt the baby kick yet?"

"Not yet," Hermione said, rubbing her belly. "My robes barely fit though…I've had to let out the seams and enlarge a few of them already."

"I might have some old maternity robes I could lend you… Charlie and his wife are using my baby crib and things at the moment but she decided to purchase her own robes – they're with her family today. I was saving the robes for Ginny but seeing as we haven't had much luck on that front… I want grandbabies, you two!" she hollered down the table. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Thank you Molly!" Hermione said, cupping her tea.

"Join the Order again, 'Mione!" Ron said suddenly. "Order meetings are so boring now without you!"

"I don't think I have any more interesting stories or confessions," Hermione said. "You heard it all."

"Hey I have an idea," George said. "What if we each take turns airing out our dirty laundry? Sirius probably has some good Marauder stories, and Moody probably has Auror stories… and I'm sure Snape has some interesting Death Eater stories…."

"Nothing I care to repeat," Snape said. "Once was too many for most of them."

"Harry," Sirius grunted, staring at the Christmas tree in the corner. "I never told you when I ran away from home, ran to your dad's house…"

Harry turned towards him. Leaning back on the chair's back legs, he said, "It was Christmas Eve... my mum was hosting. Tree was right there, as always. Me and my brother Regalus were 16 years old, my cousins Andromeda, Narcissa, and Bellatrix had come over with their mum and dad. Rodolphus and Lucius were there too. Andromeda was 15 and secretly seeing a muggle, Ted Tonks, behind her parent's back… I believe her sisters knew and made fun of her for it. Narcissa was 18 and newly engaged to Lucius. Bellatrix was 20 and newly married to Rodolphus, an arranged marriage since birth… Rodolphus seemed besotten with her, but she just seemed irritated by him. Andromeda told me later that Bella felt trapped, never loved him…. Her parents, possessing an upstanding pureblood name but strapped for cash, insisted she marry into the rich Lestrange family. Apparently Narcissa convinced her parents to throw a couple debutante balls, seeing how unhappy her sister was. So summer after she graduated, they hosted some balls (with some help from Rodolphus), and she attended a few, but she couldn't find any bloke she liked. The following summer they tried one more time, and just as they were about to close down for the evening, and her parents were talking setting up an arranged marriage, Lucius strutted in. Rich, pureblood, good-looking, gentleman type, Narcissa fell for him right away and they quickly got engaged a few months later.

"The Death Eaters were just getting started… apparently Voldemort had some sort of charisma back then, a vision of 'Making the wizarding world great again' and putting muggles in their place. Bellatrix joined right away, whether because of the vision or because she liked Voldemort, I don't know. Probably both. She convinced her besotten husband to join, and brought Lucius to a rally – he joined as well. So there at Christmas, my cousins and in-laws were excitedly talking about this bloke Voldemort and his ideas, Snape's name even came up as a possible recruit, my brother was hanging on their every word, my mother looked so proud…. Only Andromeda seemed horrified. I felt like I didn't belong there… like I was born into the wrong family. During a lull in conversation, I yelled, 'I don't belong here," and stormed out into the cold. Andromeda and my brother followed me out, my cousins and in-laws were staring curiously in the doorway…. I disapparted and apparated on your dad's doorstep, Christmas Eve night. Remus and your mum were there. Next time I saw my cousin Bellatrix and my in-laws was on the opposite side of the battlefield. Never returned back to my mum's house until after Azkaban, when I found out she and my brother had passed away," he said, staring into his goblet of eggnog.

"Blimey," Ron said. "You were born in the wrong family, mate."

"Need a shot?" Remus said, and brought over the bottle of Goblin-made rum. Without an answer, he poured a couple shots' worth. "Here you go, Padfoot."

"Thanks, Moony," Sirius said, grinning. "Always know what cheers me up."

After dinner they opened presents – Hermione had gotten some baby toys, books, and clothing from Harry, Ginny, Ron, Remus, Kingsley, and Sirius, a knit maternity sweater and maternity teas from Molly, scandalous green and silver lingerie from Tonks, and finally, she opened George's gift – an edible Dark Mark thong.

"George!" Molly said, scandalized.

"What? I thought he might like it," George said. Ron and Harry laughed.

"Where did you find these?" Tonks said, picking them up between two fingernails.

"The new chocolate shop down Diagon Alley was selling them. Owner said her chocolate Dark Marks were a hit and thought she'd take it a step further. Why, do you want one?" he said, grinning.

"Maybe… I should get one for Narcissa…" Tonks said. "What do you think, Sev?" Snape glanced over and choked on his wine when he saw it.

Hermione's face turned pale. "It's poisoned, isn't it?"

"Poisoned?" George said. He put his hands up. "You caught me – the new Order plan to off your boyfriend was poisoned knickers. Damn it Harry, why didn't we think of that? New way to off some Death Eaters too…"

…

His pale spidery fingers caressed her body, cupped and kneaded her breasts, grasped her buttocks, entered her womanhood. His lipless mouth crushed hers in a kiss. His tongue entered her mouth. His pale member, hard as bone, entered her, filling her. His red eyes never leaving hers, he teased her nub as he thrust in and out, bringing her to the edge. Just as she was about to come, she awoke with a start.

Hot, feverish, and frustrated, she touched herself until finally she felt release.

 _Yet another hot dream about him… I always wake up before I can finish….drat._

…..

The next day found her in Snape's lab. She looked around – it was huge. Rows and rows of shelves containing vials of prepared potions, jars and jars of potion ingredients, cauldrons from a tiny dollhouse-sized one to one as big as a bathtub, scales, mortars and pestles, stirring rods, hourglasses, knives of all types…

"Wow," she muttered.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Snape drawled, and glided out from a side door, his black robe billowing behind him. He looked at the clock. "Right on time, as always. Let's get started."

He led her to a couple desks and chairs. She pulled out her journal and parchment. "So, I made a list of fast-metabolizing potions that could benefit from it. Mood-altering potions, Painless Relief, the Muscle Strengthening potion, and so forth."

"Ones that wear off in a matter of hours," Snape pointed out.

"Yes – the fastest ones. If it's successful, we could try ones that have to be taken daily – such as Wolfsbane or the Contraceptive Potion. I wasn't sure if you had any, but I brought some desiccant and the type of muggle pill I was talking about." She pulled them out of her pocket and handed them to Snape. He held the desiccant up to the light. "Silica gel?"

She nodded. "I also have calcium chloride and a few others with me."

He inspected the muggle pill and enlarged it. "It looks like some sort of plastic, perhaps, with gelatin over the opening…" He scraped it off with a knife and fine powder sifted out. "Clever… you could control the release of a potion depending how small the opening is. The gelatin would dissolve in the stomach….you're limited only by how fast it would eventually be eliminated by the body. What do muggles use if they want a medicine to last months… or years…?"

"They implant something. Just under the skin, or near the desired organ – a hearing aid implant near the ear, a pacemaker device near the heart, or a contraceptive inserted in the uterus or in the vas defrens…"

He nodded. "I think you're on to something with taking muggle ideas and transferring it to potions. I doubt a witch or wizard would want something implanted, but if they're desperate, they might….Can you get more of these muggle pills?" he asked, inspecting the shell.

"Certainly – I have an MD, I can write prescriptions for them."

"Or confound the pharmacist and obliviate them afterward," Snape said. "For now we could reuse the shells... at some point we should reproduce our own. The Multiplying Charm, if nothing else. Let's try the Painless Relief potion first, that one's popular. I have witches and wizards in every direction wanting it for chronic backaches, headaches, arthritic joints, and whatever else."

She grabbed a cauldron off the shelf and filled it with the required ingredients and tools. Snape looked over his inventory expense sheet as she worked, every so often stopping to watch. He felt pride in his chest as he watched her prepare it from heart, not stopping once to look up the recipe or ask a question.

Once she finished, he came over. "Silica gel's rather inert, try that one first," he said. She added it to the potion, watching as it absorbed the water, like miniscule sponges. She filtered it out with magic, and they peered at the active remains of the potion in the bottom of the cauldron.

"That's still too much for one pill," she said. "Maybe ten pills would fit that much. Can we concentrate it?"

"The original potion would be too much volume for the stomach once it expanded, but that should be fine. Just shrink the rest down with magic," Snape growled. "Are you a witch or not?"

"I thought you didn't approve of, what was it? 'Foolish wand-waving'?" Hermione retorted.

"Touché. I don't. But when the job requires it…" He waved his wand and shrunk it as specified. He magicked it into the pill and turned an hourglass. "So we can see how fast it'll come out."

….

The next evening, Hermione got up having to pee yet again ( _Blasted pregnancy hormones!)_ and heard low voices… it sounded like Harry and Sirius. She tiptoed down the hallway so she could hear.

"She's asleep?" Harry said. Sirius must've nodded, for Harry continued, "I got it." He showed Sirius something she couldn't see. "He won't see it coming… I need some space to practice… it's kind of loud. Ginny and I live in a flat – can I borrow your courtyard?"

"She'd probably find out and get mad… ask Molly, she lives out in a field. You sure you need to practice? Can't be that complicated…." Sirius said.

 _He got something and needs 'space to practice'? 'Kind of loud'? Something he doesn't want me to know about….'He won't see it coming'?_ Her skin paled as she remembered his words from the Order meeting… 'Maybe I should bring a gun to the next battle.'

"I only have six shots with this – it was the best I could get on the black market. I need to get a direct shot at his head or heart if I'm going to kill him," Harry said. The color drained from Hermione's face. _No!_

"She's not going to be happy with you…she cares about him," Sirius muttered.

"She can find another boyfriend. I need to kill him before he kills anyone else," Harry said. "I have to," he said.

Hermione heard footsteps and crept back to her room, pretending she was asleep. She didn't fall asleep until daybreak.

…..

"Are you sure you don't want to go, Ginny? Girl's night! Should be fun!" Tonks said, putting on her jacket. She, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Sirius were at Grimmauld place, in the kitchen. Sirius and Ron had found some Firewhiskey.

"I'll pass – I don't trust the Malfoys," Ginny said.

"Suit yourself," Tonks said. "So we're going to the Malfoys' first to pick up Narcissa…"

"Why doesn't she meet us there?" Hermione asked.

"Lucius wanted to see you too. They have something for you…" Tonks said.

"The Malfoys? The Malfoys have something for me?" Hermione asked.

"Draco's old crib and some baby things. Top-of-the-line designer quality – the best money could buy. The crib has enchantments to protect baby and keep baby warm or lull baby to sleep, warn the parents if something's wrong…"

"No doubt green and covered in snakes," Ron muttered.

"Hardly," Tonks said. "It's white with champagne accents. Very pretty."

"That's nice of them, but why don't they keep it for Draco?" Ginny asked.

"Didn't you hear?" Tonks asked. "Draco's gay."

"Gay?!" Ron said.

"Yeah, he came out a few years ago. Lucius wasn't too happy about it, took him out of the will and just about disowned him. I think he eventually came to terms with it and begged Draco to knock up a witch just once to continue the bloodline. Showed him the old baby things he was saving for a grandchild… Draco called it a bunch of junk and said he doesn't want kids. So Hermione, act surprised when you see it… I wasn't supposed to tell you."

At her skeptical expression, Tonks added, "You're like royalty now. You're carrying the next Heir of Slytherin." Hermione's eyes widened and she grasped her stomach. She felt the baby kick her hand, and smiled.

They apparated to Malfoy manor. The gleaming pewter gates opened of their own accord. The white peacocks on the vast lawn paid no more than a curious glance before going back to pecking at the ground. Tonks reached the stately doors and raised the knocker.

"Well, well!" Narcissa said, and let them in. "It's good to see you Tonks, you're looking well – and Miss Granger – I hear the prophecy came true?" she said, glancing at Hermione's round stomach.

"I'm in my fourth month," Hermione said, resting a hand on her stomach. She felt kind of queasy, just as it had been the past few months. _I thought morning sickness was only the first trimester. And only in the morning. Hope it goes away soon._

"What is this mudblood doing here?!" Draco sneered, having wordlessly strutted in with his father.

"Draco!" Narcissa scolded. Lucius smacked Draco on the back of his head.

"The prophecy came true, Draco," Lucius said, resting on his silver cane. "She is your master's mate, know your place! She is _carrying the Dark Lord's child –_ the next Heir of Slytherin. I suggest you be nice to her…"

"What? How?!" Draco said, staring at Hermione's stomach. She hesitated, but she could see the curious looks on Narcissa and Lucius's faces, even if they were too polite to ask.

"Well – after that battle, I took Permanent Polyjuice and went to Central America to be a Healer. He took Permanent Polyjuice for anonymity and went to South America for research. I was driving back home one night, and hit him in disguise– over 2,000 pounds of metal at high speed. I felt guilty and saved his life, not knowing who he was. His spinal cord in his neck was shredded, which takes 3 lunar cycles of Nerve Regrowth Potion to heal. I took care of him, and over time we got to know each other."

"Cliffhanger, much?" Tonks said, looking askance at Hermione. "They shagged, they reverted back to their normal forms, and obviously she got pregnant. She ran away to England and has been missing him ever since. As far as Severus can tell, he misses her too."

"Thank you, Tonks," Lucius drawled. "Eloquent and tactful as ever." She curtsied.

"You really should write out your story and publish it," Tonks said to Hermione, grinning. "The Order already asked what happened, you might as well just go to a Death Eater meeting and hand out pamphlets, or at least put in the _Quibbler."_ Draco snorted.

Hermione's stomach was trying to turn itself inside out again. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Take the hallway to the left, turn right at the statue, and it's the second door on the right," Narcissa said. Hermione fled down the hall.

"I remember those days," Narcissa said, watching her flee.

"Days?" Lucius said. "It was months, dear."

"Men have it so easy," Tonks said enviously.

"Indeed," Narcissa said.

…

Hermione emptied her stomach into the porcelain bowl for the umpteenth time that day. She came out, and wandered down the hall. She wasn't sure if it was a left or a right coming back… such a huge house.

"How dare you!" a low voice snarled. Bellatrix came out from the shadows, ragged and bony, eyes set in shadows. "How dare you, tempt my master, lure him into your filthy muggle loins, pollute his child with your dirty blood… he was MINE! I was supposed to carry his child!" She pulled out her wand, but Hermione grabbed it out of her hand and flung it across the floor. Hermione tried to cry out but Bella clamped a hand over her mouth. Bella went for her throat to strangle her, and Hermione tried to twist her way out of it but the pale bony hands only tightened on her throat. They fell to the floor, and Bella pulled out a knife, trailing it across Hermione's stomach, digging the point in deeper.

Hermione felt faint, and tried to free Bella's fingers off her neck. She couldn't reach her wand. She grabbed Bella's left forearm. _Help me!,_ she thought. The Dark Mark burned in Bellatrix's skin. A second later, Voldemort apparated with a pop next to them.

She heard footsteps coming in the distance, and voices – "No!" and "Bella, leave her alone!"

"Master!" Bellatrix said. He picked her up by the neck with one hand, and with the other, pointed his wand at her and whispered "Avada Kedavra!" A flash of blinding green light shot out and hit her in the chest. He threw aside her dead body.

"Bella!" Narcissa cried out, and kneeled beside her sister's body, tears streaming down her face.

"I forgot she was here," Lucius muttered.

Hermione ran to his side. "I missed you," she said. He raised an eyebrow, but he put an arm around her nonetheless.

"Come home with me," he murmured into her hair.

"Tempting, but I can't," Hermione said, looking down at Bella's dead body. The green flash echoed through her mind. "I saved your life, you saved mine, we're even. I need to be alone for awhile. England isn't working out for me." _You aren't working out for me,_ she thought.

He lifted her chin so he could look her in the eyes. "What about…"

"Our baby?" she asked. He nodded. "I want to raise our child someplace peaceful…I feel like I'm in the middle of this damn war…."

"Hah – that's what you get for spreading your legs…." Draco sneered.

"Draco!" Lucius shouted.

Voldemort turned slowly on his heel, and pulled his wand out from his sleeve.

"Just what are you implying, Draco?" Voldemort murmured dangerously. Wand drawn, he advanced a step toward Draco, who stepped back, face pale, eyes wide.

"Crucio," Voldemort muttered, and Draco fell to the ground, twitching, and cried out.

 _"_ _Don't!"_ Hermione yelled out, in Parseltongue.

The cruciatrius stopped suddenly, and he turned and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. _"You speak it?"_ he hissed in Parseltongue. _"How?"_

 _"_ _When the father speaks a magical language, the mother is gifted with it to communicate with her baby…."_ Hermione hissed back. _"I've been practicing with a garden snake."_

 _Not 'hatchling'?,_ she thought. _It must change depending on whether I'm speaking to a snake or person…_

 _"_ _It is a gift,"_ he hissed back, smiling down at her. _"I'm glad you see that."_ He tightened his grip around her. He felt a little kick in his lower abdomen. He felt another one and looked down. " _He kicked me!"_ he said in wonderment, and rubbed his hand over her belly, feeling their baby push against his hand.

 _"_ _I want to show you something,"_ she said, and gestured for him to use Legilimens on her. Peering into her eyes, he could see the prenatal visit – he could hear the baby's heartbeat, and see the enlarged image of their fetus, a big head and torso with scrawny little limbs and tiny little hands and feet, bouncing around on the umbilical cord. Looking into his red reptilian eyes, she saw a sense of awe; his jaw dropped.

 _"_ _I missed you as well…why won't you stay with me?"_ he hissed.

She frowned. _"The first thing you did when you came back was start a battle. I can't be with someone who kills and tortures, wages war…"_ she hissed. _"Why is that so hard?!"_ she added angrily.

 _"_ _I killed Bella to protect you… she can't harm you or the baby anymore. I tortured Draco because he disrespected you,"_ Voldemort hissed softly, petting her bushy hair. _"Come home with me tonight... just one night,"_ he hissed softly. He lowered his hand on her back to the curve of her buttocks, and pulled her close to him.

He whispered something in her ear, and her face reddened. His touch made her shiver... her groin ached so much it was almost painful. She had had dreams about this, longing to sleep with him again, him in his true body, she in hers. Against reason, despite the war and wrong it was, she ached for him. She ran her hand down over his groin, and smiled when she felt him hardening, and heard a grunt in her ear.

She looked back – at Lucius comforting a distraught Narcissa and closing Bella's eyes, and Draco's agape expression.

" _I can't,_ " she hissed. " _Not while people continue to die, not while the war goes on. I'm sorry."_ She had a lump in her throat. _"Harry is bringing a gun to the next battle."_

Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow. _"A gun?"_ She nodded. " _You're sure?"_ he hissed.

She nodded. _"He bought one, he's practicing. I think it's a revolver. He's relying on you not seeing it coming,"_ she said, her voice breaking. She had tears in her eyes.

 _"_ _Thank you for warning me….but why are you telling me this?"_ he hissed slowly.

 _"_ _Because I love you!"_ she shouted. He looked taken aback. Tears welled up in her eyes. _"I love you! But I can't be with you while the war goes on…"_

"I need to be alone," she mumbled, abruptly switching to English. He reached for her, but she ran and disapparated mid-footstep.

"I'll floo Rodolphus," Lucius said heavily.

"Don't mention her jealousy…or the reason for it," Narcissa said between sobs. "I want his memories of her to be pure."

"I'll tell him Bella thought she was unworthy," Lucius said. At the stares from Voldemort, Narcissa, and Tonks, he added, "What? She's been saying that ever since the prophecy broke."

"I can get the paperwork started at the Ministry if you like. I'll floo it to you by tomorrow morning," Tonks said. "Auror report on cause of death, close her accounts, pull up her will, the usual. There's a checkbox for 'Voldemort' actually, in the 'Homicide' section. Right above 'Death Eater.'" He smirked, obviously proud of himself.

"Thank you, Tonks," Lucius said. "I'll take care of the Gringotts side of things."

"Of course," Tonks said. "You always were the businessman." He smirked and walked out.

"That's the second time she's run away from me…." Voldemort murmured.

Tonks sighed. "She's a pacifist. And she's as stubborn as you are. She quit the Order though." At Voldemort's raised eyebrow, she said, "Walk with me."

Draco watched wide-eyed as Tonks and Voldemort walked out together, and turned back to his mum and dead aunt.


	9. Battle

Chapter Nine - Battle

Tonks returned to Grimmauld place where Sirius, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were sharing a pint.

"You're back early," Ron said. "What happened to 'Girl's night'?"

"It's being postponed," Tonks said, and took a seat.

"Where's Hermione?" Sirius asked.

"She decided she needed to be alone for awhile," Tonks said, and helped herself to some Firewhiskey. "Harry, Bella's dead." Harry blinked.

"What?!" he said.

Tonks relayed what happened and downed her shot of Firewhiskey. "Wish I knew parseltongue," she muttered.

"Bloody hell," Harry said. "You and Snape were bad enough, but I let you two get married…"

"Excuse me!? _Let us_ get married? We were supposed to ask your permission?! He's a member of the Order, what's so bad about Sev?"

"It's Snape." Harry said. Ron echoed him and added, "Greasy git."

"Oh," Tonks said. "Is this because he's not an underwear model? Slytherin? Used to terrorize first years? I should've married a Gryffindor underwear model instead?"

Harry and Ron nodded.

"You deserve better," Ron said. "You don't have to settle."

"My parents were one of the Black sisters, and a muggle. Narcissa and Bella had the same reaction you two had about my parents – that my mum deserved better, remarks about his looks, what he was, who she should've married. Sev's family didn't approve of his mum marrying a muggle. You two are doing the same thing to me. And to Hermione." She poured herself another shot and took a swig of Firewhiskey.

"And come to think of it, Harry, I've been in the Order longer than you, and I don't recall you bringing up in meeting the motion for permission to marry Ginny. If this is some part of the Order contract I am unaware of, then, clearly you broke your own rules and you're not fit to be Head. I quit."

"As do I," said Snape from the doorway.

Harry blinked and turned around.

Harry scowled and left with Ginny, slamming the door behind him. Ron followed behind them. Tonks decided to leave early for her night shift as Auror. Snape poured himself a goblet of wine and sank into a chair.

"Everything's falling apart," Sirius said, running his hands through his matted dark hair. "Death Eater and Auror get married, Harry's best mate and the bloody Voldemort in love and expecting, Order members quitting, Voldemort killing off one of his best Death Eaters, Malfoys sucking up to Hermione… everything's falling apart," Sirius muttered into his empty goblet.

"Falling apart," Snape said silkily, "Or falling into place?" Sirius blinked. "It's a paradigm shift, slowly at first, picking up speed…" Snape continued.

Sirius stared thoughtfully at him – the cold dark eyes glinting beneath a curtain of dark greasy hair. The few gray hairs and wrinkles showed the time that had passed, since he had first met him on the train on the way to Hogwarts for the first time, all those years ago.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Sirius said suddenly. Snape looked up. "I'm sorry – for everything James and I did to you."

At a loss for words, Snape blinked, opened his mouth to speak, and closed it. "Thank you, Sirius," Snape muttered. His mouth up-turned in a crooked smile. "I suppose I should apologize for trying to get you the Dementor's Kiss when you went on the run."

Sirius held out his hand, and they shook hands. They clanged their goblets and drank.

"Oh – I know when your paradigm shift got started," Sirius said, amused. Snape tilted his head. "When you and Lily were best friends at Hogwarts… all the comments about a Gryffindor muggleborn and Slytherin studying together…."

Snape stared intently at Sirius for a long moment, and Sirius started to regret bringing up Lily. _I thought he was over her. Way to go, Sirius, finally made things right, and you bring her up…_

"You might be right," Snape said at last, and helped himself to some more wine.

…

After going for a late night run, Hermione spent the night at a muggle motel. When she awoke, her mind made up, she walked into a gun store and bought the thickest Kevlar vest she could find, assured that it would stop anything short of a bazooka. After several drafts, she wrote a note:

 **I've heard of debris breaching shield charms, I wouldn't be surprised if a bullet could. Please wear this to the next battle… it's bulletproof. You'll still feel a jolt from impact, but bullets won't be able to penetrate the vest and reach your organs.**

 **Love,**

 **H**

She taped it to the vest, wrapped it in brown paper, and tied it with string. Before she could change her mind, she pulled the hood on her cloak over her head and went to the Owlery in Diagon Alley. She rented an express owl (guaranteed delivery or your money back!) and mailed it to Voldemort.

…

Sirius and Snape were still seated at the table, deep in discussion – they had spent the night discussing the old days at Hogwarts, the Order, the Death Eaters, their childhoods, Snape's paradigm shift, Lily, Tonks, and everything else.

Tonks came in that morning, knocking over the umbrella stand with a bang. "Came home after my shift and wondered where you went. Have you two been here the whole night?" she said, just now noticing they were in the same chairs from last night, in the same clothing. "Are you two... friends now?" she asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Snape said, drinking a mug of tea. "Speaking of which, what exactly do Hermione and the Dark Lord consider themselves?"

"No idea," Tonks said. "I don't even know if they know. As far as I can tell, they care about each other and they're exclusive, but it feels ridiculous to call him her 'boyfriend.'"

"Indeed," Snape agreed.

"I told you," Sirius said through a mouthful of oatmeal. He swallowed. "We're calling him her 'baby daddy' until further notice."

"Dear Merlin," Snape said. "I still prefer her 'lover' or her 'man,' given the alternatives."

"Hey Sev – you lost the bet, by the way. Twenty galleons, pay up," Tonks said.

"What bet?" Sirius asked.

"He thought now that they looked like themselves they wouldn't be attracted to each other. I said when you love someone looks don't matter. We made a bet."

"What makes you think you won?" Snape said silkily.

"There was a lot of tension between them, he was asking her to spend the night, they were very close, touching….oh, legilimens me if you don't believe me then, Mr. Skeptic," she said, pointing at her eyes. Snape peered into her unblinking eyes.

He tore his gaze away. "I see," he muttered, and pulled out his coin purse.

Sirius jumped when he noticed Harry and Ginny standing in the doorway.

"You should really set an alarm spell on your house," Snape said dryly. "Clearly Potter doesn't have the manners to... knock... before entering, or to let you know he's coming over."

"Oh it's very casual," Sirius said.

…..

A week later, Hermione returned to Sirius's house, savings running dangerously low. _I should go back to Guatemala… maybe I can get my old job back._ She froze as she overheard Harry, Sirius, and Snape discussing the upcoming battle. "Why's a head shot so hard on a moving target?" Harry was saying.

"Just go for the torso then – bigger target," Sirius suggested. "Even if you don't get his heart on the first try I'm sure any shot would slow him down enough so you can get it."

"I'm begging you, Harry…." she pleaded. "Please don't kill him…he's not all bad…I miss him…"

"He's lying to you, trying to manipulate you. He can't love, Hermione."

"I think he can, even if he doesn't realize it yet," Hermione said. "I don't know if it's because his soul is whole now and joined with mine, or the blood transfer, or the potential was always there... but there's another side of him... I can see it when I'm with him, when I showed him our baby..."

"You delude yourself," Harry said flatly.

"He cares for me… He even said he misses me!" she said. Harry shook his head, and Hermione could tell he was writing her off as a lost cause.

"He's a mass murderer, a psychopath. I need to kill him before anyone else dies. I didn't think I had it in me to kill someone, but I have to. It's the only way to save everyone else," Harry said in a tight voice. He stared at her. "I thought you were on our side! It's like I don't even know you anymore, Granger," Harry spat.

"I am…." she said.

"If you are on our side, then Don't. See. Him. Again," Harry said.

She ran outside. It was pouring sheets of icy rain, but she didn't care, didn't bother with a repelling or warming charm. _Typical England_ , she thought. She summoned her bag of possessions and magicked it into her pocket.

"Where are you going?" Sirius yelled over the gusts of winds and rain.

"Back to Guatemala," she yelled back. "England's not working out for me," she said, looking at Harry, who seemed speechless. She turned away to disapparate.

"Wait!" Snape yelled. "Hermione – you can stay with us." He conjured and wrapped a heavy blanket around her, and took her things. They apparated back to the Snapes' flat, and Snape dropped her things in the spare bedroom. Tonks was resting after yet another overnight Auror shift.

He left Hermione to take a hot shower and change into dry clothes. When she came back, Snape sat her down with hot herbal tea, and told her, "Learn who your true friends are, Hermione…"

She looked at him thoughtfully. The dark greasy curtain of hair now shot with grey, his face now etched with lines... only his voice and dark eyes were the same as when she first met him, in Potions class, back when she was an eleven year old girl... _Harry and Ron had always bashed him, at one time I thought he was the cold-blooded Death Eater they all thought he was... cruel to his students, and yet now he and the once-feared Lord Voldemort and even Lucius were, well… nice to me! It's unnerving how much had changed since Hogwarts._ _I think I'll start a list… everything teenage Hermione didn't expect about early-thirties Hermione._ Deep in thought, she didn't even notice him leave.

Tonks would wake up that evening to find Snape and Hermione deep in discussion about the Nerve Regrowth potion, its ingredients and the procedure, discussing the pros and cons of gold equipment, yet again talking about whether it would ever be legalized, the patient's progress, and the riskiness of the potion versus the benefit to the patient.

…

"Before we begin another training session, there's an important matter I want to address," Voldemort began. Another Death Eater meeting - all his followers were gathered in a forest.

"Most of you are aware by now that Bellatrix is dead. As some of you know, the prophecy came to fruition. Bellatrix was strangling Hermione and trying to carve out my baby with a knife when I found them and killed her. The same goes for _anyone_ who tries to harm Hermione or my child," Voldemort said sternly. He paused, and made eye contact with every last Death Eater. "Bellatrix was one of my longest serving, most faithful servants, among you since the beginning, but in the end, it didn't matter. Are there any questions?"

"My Lord - what if Granger tries to fight one of us in battle?" Avery asked.

"I sincerely hope that being five months pregnant, she would avoid a battlefield. If she does try to duel you, _you are not to hurt her, even in self-defense._ Use harmless First-year spells, a disarming charm, disapparate away, even."

"How was the prophecy fulfilled, my Lord?" one of the Carrows asked.

"Yeah – My lord, last time you said, quote, 'I don't care if she lives or dies. She is insignificant, like forgotten rubbish on the street.' What happened?" Nott pointed out.

Voldemort stared at Nott for a long moment. Nott's face blanched and he took a step back. "I did say that," Voldemort admitted. "Times change. As far as how the prophecy was fulfilled, that's a long story and we have lots of training to do before the next battle. The last training session was pathetic," Voldemort said. "Let's start with reviewing the Unforgivables. We are near an Acromantula nest – you can practice on the spiders. There's some human-sized ones farther back towards the nest, if you want a challenge."

As they broke apart and started practicing, Voldemort walked among them, correcting technique. ("Wormtail! How many times must I tell you? Intent! That spider won't drop dead unless you want it to!" "Again, McNair! Again!")

Once he was satisfied, he brought them back together. "And now, I'm going to show you a few more… creative spells. 'Pyrrhus' will create a stream of fire. A tricky little hex, you have to flick your wrist like so… _Pyrrhus_!" he said, and a jet of continuous fire shot out from his wand, not unlike a firethrower.

…

The dawn of another battle. She should've known he'd plan out another battle, even after she told him to end the war or she wouldn't be with him. She was five months along… the baby was wriggling like mad in there. Her stomach was getting bigger every day. Her white Healer robes stretched over her stomach. She packed her bag of medical supplies, cast a series of complex shielding charms on herself, and joined Tonks and Snape in apparating to Order Headquarters.

Harry looked surprised to see the three of them there. "I thought you lot quit," he said.

Tonks smirked. "Won't say 'no' to a battle, however."

"I can join the Dark Lord and fight on his side, if you prefer," Snape said dryly.

"Fine, stay." Harry said. "But you, Granger – you're pregnant, you shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous."

"I can't stand by while my friends get hurt… I'm a healer, I can heal the injured, I can save lives, you need me! I cast lots of shield charms on myself, and I doubt the other side would attack me anyway."

"It's stray curses and hexes I'm worried about. You're pregnant. Stay here and protect your baby. Don't come!" Harry said, raising his voice.

"I'm coming whether you like it or not," Hermione said, and walked toward the front door with the rest.

"I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice," Harry said, and pointed his wand at her, pinning her to the stairwell behind her. He conjured some chains and rope and bound her to the railing, against her protests. "Let's go," Harry said to the rest, ignoring their agape expressions. He grabbed a handgun out of his pocket, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready.

" _WHAT?!_ NO!" Hermione yelled, seeing the handgun. _He has to think I didn't know… I hope Voldemort's wearing the vest…._ "Don't do this!" she yelled, "I love him!"

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Scared for her lover's life, her magic built and built within her, like a hurricane building power over the sea, until the chains and rope snapped in half and fell, pulling down sections of the stairwell with them. She blinked. _Why didn't that happen when Bellatrix was trying to kill me and the baby? Strange._ She apparated to the field. It was a cold wintery day, a sheet of snow stretched across the landscape.

Spells flew by overhead. She had cast another bubble shield around herself, as she scurried about the field, treating the wounded or injured. The battle was raging on – both the Order and the Death Eaters, and the recruited followers on both sides. Yells and screams, curses, and spells shouted into the air, spells of all colors whizzing by, shields shattered and recast, people running this way and that.

Hermione was repairing an unconscious Remus, hit by a nasty curse. She met Voldemort's eyes briefly across the battlefield. His eyes lingered on her stomach. It was so brief she may have imagined it, but she thought she saw a strange look of longing in his eyes. _She looked like an angel… a ghost… a bride. His bride…._ He forced his eyes away, as his attention was diverted by Harry.

Harry pulled the gun out of his robes and aimed it straight at Voldemort's heart. Heads across the battlefield turned at the blast. Voldemort flinched, but kept sending spells Harry's way. Harry dodged and fired and fired at Voldemort's torso – he only tensed. At Harry's puzzled expression, Voldemort ripped his robes down the center, revealing the Kevlar vest. "A gift from Hermione," he said, smirking.

Harry froze. _She knew! She tipped him off! How? She must've overheard… She sent him a bulletproof vest!_

He and Voldemort looked over at Hermione. She flashed a mischievous smile.

Voldemort summoned the gun and fired it at Harry's head, who only just barely ducked in time. He fired again, but heard a click – out of bullets. He threw the gun aside. They continued dueling.

Once Remus recovered and ran off, Hermione ran over to help Ginny, who was limping.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_ Voldemort yelled out just as Harry yelled, " _Sectumsempra!"_ The spells met in the middle and ricocheted off each other. The purple Sectumsempra spell sped off into the woods by the horizon. The Killing curse hit Hermione square in the chest. She shrieked, and fell flat on her back, unconscious. Red blood pooled out from between her legs, in stark contrast to the glistening white snow and her white robe.

Ginny reached her first. Sirius and Tonks were not too far behind. Snape sprinted toward them. Her face was blue. Ginny checked her pulse, and shook her head. "It's thready," she muttered. "I can barely feel it."

"No. No no no no," Tonks said, shaking her head. A tear shone in her eye. She glanced towards Voldemort. Voldemort looked paralyzed to the spot, frozen with horror. A look of pain and dread shone from his wide red eyes as he stared at her, mouth agape. Harry looked rooted the spot as well, staring wide-eyed at Hermione.

"Another casualty," Sirius murmured, sadly. Tonks shook her head.

"She's still alive," Tonks said. "But only just."

Snape reached them and put his hands over Hermione's abdomen and murmured old Latin, sounding like a song. The spilled blood retreated back into her.

Motion caught his eye, and Sirius, Ginny, and Tonks followed his gaze. A couple death eaters were running towards them, black robes spread out behind them. Sirius and Ginny warily grabbed their wands. A hand reached out from the cloak and removed the mask and lowered the hood. It was Lucius. Narcissa lowered her hood and mask as well. She bent down beside Hermione.

"You think we should take the baby out?" Sirius muttered. "He's kicking like mad in there." Narcissa looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Are you mad?" Narcissa yelled. "She's barely 5 months along! You do that, and the baby's lungs will collapse!"

"Do it to save her," Snape said. "Her body can't fight for its life and the baby at the same time."

"No," Molly said, having just reached them. "There's still hope left. Get her to St. Mungos! Intensive care ward!"

"I'll send over my private Healer," Lucius said.

Tonks and Sirius disapparated with Hermione's limp form. The last thing Voldemort saw were her glassy, unseeing eyes… he had seen more lively eyes on a frozen fish.

"Retreat!" he called, tapping his forearm.

…

He was drinking his ninth glass that night, and yet it did nothing for him. _I failed her. She saved my life twice, and I as good as killed her. The battle was my idea. Not just her. I killed my son too. I should've done what she wanted, ended the war, listened to her. She would've been alive now…_ the bartender, kept pushing him to eat, but he had no appetite. He couldn't sleep. Alcohol did nothing. _I have to see her._

He thrust some galleons on the table, and apparated to St. Mungos. Intensive Care ward, Molly had said. The receptionist said "visitor time is over," but with a quick "obliviate" (no use causing a scene, much as he wished to just obliterate her), he was on his way.

She was lying prone in bed, glassy eyes facing the ceiling. A series of blue numbers hovered in the air, tracking the pulse, blood pressure, and oxygen levels of her and the baby. A tube going down her throat was pumping a continuous potion. A device on her mouth provided oxygen. Harry and Sirius were there beside her, holding her hand. She was oblivious to them.

Harry and Sirius looked up to see him in the doorway. Harry stood and grabbed his wand, but Sirius blocked his arm.

"Is she…?" Voldemort asked softly.

"She's in a coma," Sirius whispered. "She's been in a coma for hours. Baby somehow fought off the Killing Curse – kept kicking as we were transporting her until finally Tonks and I just saw this green jet shoot out from her stomach to the sky. The healers don't know how, didn't even believe us at first until they saw how severely magically drained the baby was. Hermione and baby are in stable condition now, but the damage is done. She's in a coma, baby has a severe case of Magic Depletion sickness – worse they've ever seen. They've been giving a potion to help baby recover. Some kid you got there…"

"How long did they say she'll be like this?" Harry asked him.

"They don't know," Sirius said. "If she doesn't recover in four months – when gestation ends, and we can free the baby – then, I'm afraid it'll be a lost cause."

Voldemort nodded, turned, and left. _I will not show weakness to my enemies._

...

Staring bug-eyed at the ceiling, he didn't get any sleep that night. _My fault. It's all my fault. I should've listened to her, ended the war like she asked…. Seemed like she was asking too much then, now it seems like such a small request. Everything she did for me… she saved my life twice._ His green Killing curse ricocheting off Potter's spell and hitting her kept replaying in his head. _My son fought off a Killing curse and he's not even born yet! My son…. The prophecy wasn't kidding about a child 'surpassing the likes of Merlin.' I hope she wakes up._

He had to get his affairs in order.

Over the next few weeks, he halted all recruits – owled out notices, saying they wouldn't be needed.

Went out North to the dementors, went in the mountains to the Giants, and informed them their presence was no longer needed.

Gathered all his parchment planning out future raids, battles, attacks, ambushes, and threw them into a roaring living room fire, watched the corners catch fire first, before they furled under into smoke and flames.

Collected his books on war strategy, and tossed them in the still raging fire.

If his followers were curious as to the lack of battles, they said nothing.

His chest ached when he wasn't with her. He visited her whenever he could, watched her from the doorway, said not a word. If the Order thought it was strange, they said nothing. He liked it when Tonks or Severus was there – they were more welcoming than the others. He could never stay long - it pained him to see her like this. It had been over a month, and she wasn't getting any better.

"You ever notice her vitals dip a bit every time he enters the room? And then spike when he leaves?" Ron said once. "Almost as if she's relaxed by his presence…" Voldemort glanced at the numbers, and sure enough, her heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing rate were dropping a bit.

"Funny, mine do the opposite," Harry said dryly. Voldemort snorted. He patted Hermione's foot, clad in sheets. He heard footsteps in the distance and left before he was seen.

He was about to leave one night, when Tonks offered him a seat. He sat next to her, and clasped Hermione's hand. It felt cold and limp, lifeless. Still her eyes stared at the ceiling, unblinking and unseeing. He rested a hand on her 8-month stomach – his son was kicking fitfully in there, but calmed down at his touch. He pushed her hospital robe aside to bare her stomach. He saw a tiny foot recede, and a miniature hand came to the surface, pressing on her belly from inside – he held out his large spidery hand over her stomach, over his son's tiny hand, and felt slight pressure as his son pushed back on his palm. _There's a little person in there! My son…. He can feel my presence! Wake up, Hermione! One month left and then they'll give up on you…._

He got up at long last, and left.

That night, he put his wand to his forearm, and freed the Death Eaters. His servants, wherever they were, would feel a chill as the dark mark faded from their arms and vanished.

…

He returned to her side the next night, hoping to see her alive, awake, now that he had done what she asked. Yet still she lay lifeless, staring unseeing at the ceiling. Harry, Ginny, Sirius, and Ron, were there.

"The war is over," Voldemort said suddenly, making eye contact with Harry. He swiveled on his heel and left. Harry stepped over Ginny's legs and followed him out the door to the hallway.

"Over?" Harry echoed.

"Over!" Voldemort repeated. "No more battles or raids, purebloods and muggles can have equal rank for all I care. Have a long and happy life, Potter, play seeker for England - I don't care anymore!"

"Do you love her?" Harry asked. _Seeker for England?_

"I'm not discussing my _feelings_ with you, Potter!" Voldemort hissed angrily.

"It's not a discussion! It's a yes or no question!" Harry yelled. _Calm down, Harry…. No point starting a fight here._ He took a deep breath. "Do you love her?" he asked calmly.

Voldemort sighed. He inclined his head once in affirmation.

"She asked me to end the war once, not to kill you…. everything she's done for me and yet it seemed like she was asking too much. And now…" Harry said.

"…it seems like such a small request?" Voldemort finished. "She asked me the same thing." There was a long pause and then he said, "Tell me about her. You knew her for years."

"She was one of my best friends, like the sister I never had…. Helpful, always put others before herself, called me out when I was being a prat, tried to stop me from doing something stupid. Brilliant. Always raising her hand in class with the answer – just about drove Snape mad. Aced all her OWLs and NEWTs, and helped Ron and I with our studies. More than booksmart, she was clever. She figured out that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered beetle animagus, and that Lupin was a werewolf. She figured out second year that it was a basilisk in the castle and was almost killed herself…"

Voldemort frowned with concern. _All my fault._ "She was?" he said in a tight voice. "I didn't know that."

"On the way back from the library. I was hearing a voice in the walls that no one else could hear. She realized it was a snake since I was a parselmouth back then, looked it up, and found out it must be a basilisk. She figured out it was traveling in the pipes, and realized muggleborns were petrified instead of killed this time because they saw the snake through something – a ghost, a camera, etc. They found her with a mirror…. If the snake found her before she figured that out…." He trailed off. _She figured out that basilisk venom can destroy horcruxes too. I probably shouldn't bring that up._

Voldemort winced. _I opened the Chamber of Secrets the first time, my diary horcrux opened it the second time…._ They were leaning against opposite walls in the hallway.

"One thing I like about her – she didn't give a damn about fame. So many people seeing me as a symbol representing some sort of savior or celebrity or enemy or my father, and she just saw me for me, and that was it. During the Triwizard Tournament, all the blokes were hovering around Viktor Krum trying to get his autograph, and all the girls were following him, hoping he'd ask them to the Holiday Ball – and Hermione would get irritated at all the noise in the library when she was trying to study! Probably the one girl who ignored him – so of course he asked her." Harry paused. "I remember Ron telling her, 'you're fraternizing with the enemy' back then. What seemed like an overstatement then, seems like an understatement now…" Harry laughed.

Voldemort snorted.

"She punched Draco square in the face one time…so hard he slumped on the ground. Right in front of the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams."

"Completely unprovoked?" Voldemort said, with a raised eyebrow.

"Well no – there was a scheduling conflict for using the field for practice. Draco was gloating about the new Nimbus Two Thousand and One brooms his father bought the team. Hermione pointed out that no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in; they got in on pure talent. He called her a 'filthy little mudblood' – she er, didn't like that too much."

 _She slapped me in the face for saying that…_

"You think I could play seeker for England?" Harry asked suddenly.

"The number of comments I've heard over the years from my Death Eaters who have seen you play or fly … Draco, Lucius, Severus, Igor, Quirrell, Barty Junior, Goyle Junior, an overheard comment from Ludo Bagman… That night the Order all disguised themselves as you, I just looked for the best flyer."

"Comments?" Harry said. _I haven't heard anything…. Then again it's not like that lot would compliment me on anything._

"When Quidditch matches or Hogwarts came up in small talk, or when I was asking about my House, or inquiring about the progress of the Triwizard Tournament. Frustration over Slytherin losing, observation, or grudging admiration. I imagine the Auror department will be downsized now that the war is over. England hasn't had a Quidditch team make playoffs for the Quidditch World Cup in decades. A decent Seeker could fix that."

"Never took you for a Quidditch fan," Harry said. _Hah! I bet Draco and Snape were frustrated at all the times Slytherin lost!_

"I played Quidditch myself back at Hogwarts," Voldemort said.

"Let me guess – beater?" Harry said. _I could just see him, hitting the Bludger as hard as he could at the other team…_

"Chaser. Was team captain my final year. Hope my son plays when he goes to Hogwarts."

"Son? It's a girl. A baby girl," Harry said.

"I just assumed… I'm having a daughter?" Voldemort said quietly.

"The healers did some imaging of the baby to make sure it was okay. Definitely a girl," Harry said. "I don't trust you to Legilimens me but you should have this, it's your baby." He conjured a vial, put his wand to his temple, and extracted the silvery white memory. He placed it in Voldemort's outstretched pale hand. He held it up to the light as if trying to gleam the image, before pocketing it.

"Have a nice life," Voldemort said.

Harry blinked. _Never thought I'd hear Voldemort say that…._ "Same to you," Harry said. Voldemort nodded, swiveled on his heel, and left, the clack of his boots retreating in the distance.

Harry stared after him long after he left.

...

It was just Tonks again that night. She saw him in the doorway, staring at Hermione. Seeing his forlorn expression, she offered him her seat and left. He held Hermione's hand and reached a hand under her hospital robes, resting his hand on her large stomach, feeling the little hand pressing on his fingertips. He kicked his boots off, and lay on top of the sheets beside her, turning her hips with his spidery hands so they rested inside his. He brushed her hair out of the way.

"I ended the war," he whispered in her ear. "It's over." He caressed her neck with his long pale fingers. "Every last plan abandoned. Burnt. I freed my death eaters. They're free. We're all free. I swear to you, as long as I live, I won't hurt Harry or anyone else." He kissed her cool cheek. "Come back. Our baby needs you. I – I need you." Tears stung at his eyes. He kissed her slackened mouth. None of her fiery spirit shone in her glassy, lifeless eyes. He fought back tears. _I will not cry._

"Come back to me, I miss you," he said softly. He clutched her limp body to his chest. "This is all my fault," he said, his crimson eyes blurring with tears. _My Killing curse made her this way. She saved my life twice and I as good as killed her._ A tear fell on her lips. "I love you," he whispered. He buried his face in her bushy hair.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and open. _I'm lying in what looks like a hospital room._ Lord Voldemort was lying beside her, holding her, his pale face buried in her hair, his red eyes shining with tears. His words came back to her, as if she were under water, and he, just above the surface.

"Voldemort?" she whispered. She wrapped her arms around him. "I love you too," she said softly in his ear. He raised his head, and looked wonderously into her eyes, her beautiful cinnamon eyes, as if afraid he was imagining it. Without a word, they were kissing, his mouth on hers, and the empty ache in his chest faded away for the first time in months.

He kissed her lips as if his life depended on it, her mouth parted as she moaned, and he thrust his tongue inside, tasting her. She fondled his tongue with hers. He felt himself harden, poking urgently against her thigh. She smiled under his mouth, and raised her gown above her waist as he unbuttoned his robe and freed himself. He thrust his aching manhood deep inside her soft wet folds, gasping as she did. He clutched her tightly to him as he made love to her. They fell asleep, her head resting against his pale chest, the sheets just high enough to cover her naked breasts and his groin.

Remus would walk in for his shift hours later, to find the bed empty and smelling of sex, and both of them gone.

 _Fin_


End file.
